"I wonder what I _am_ good for, anyway?" muttered Dick Winworth to
himself as he sucked the finger he had caught in the gate, and gazed
ruefully at the butter stain on his sleeve.
It was just after dinner on a warm summer's day, and at the table Dick
had displayed more than usual awkwardness, for he had upset the salt in
taking his seat, trod on his aunt Phoebe's tenderest foot in getting
up, scalded his tongue with hot soup, and broken a decorated plate
belonging to an old set, which his sister appeared to value more highly
than if it were new. It was in a fit of despair over the latter
catastrophe that the usually gentle maiden had uttered an exclamation or
two, which led her brother to ask the above mournful mental question.
The first delicious freshness of vacation had worn off, and now that
Town Bergen, Dick's great "chum," was away on a visit, young Winworth
had begun to find time hang rather heavy on his hands, especially as he
had just finished a very interesting book, and was quite sure he
couldn't find another as good.
Pondering in his mind as to whether long holidays were such desirable
things after all, Dick strolled on through the quiet village street,
which had been lately dignified by being chosen as the thoroughfare of
the only horse-railroad in the place.
The terminus of the route was not far from the Winworths', at the
entrance to the little park, and as Dick in his walk came in sight of
the latter, he suddenly resolved to take a trip into town and back.
"That'll keep me out of mischief for an hour at least, and besides, I've
been meaning to ride in on the cars all the week," and the boy quickened
his steps in order to catch the "bobtail" he saw standing there.
However, he need have been in no sort of hurry, as he soon discovered
that the horse appeared to be asleep, with the lines wound around the
brake, while there were no signs of the driver anywhere.
There were not more than a dozen cars on the road, and these ran at
intervals of several minutes, and as here at the outskirts of the
village there were as yet very few houses, it was not considered
necessary to have a waiting-room, nor even a starter's box.
"But where can that driver be?" mused Dick, as he gazed admiringly up,
down, and across the neatly painted vehicle, for the cars were all new
and of the latest patent. "However, I seem to be the only passenger; but
no, I guess here's another," as his attention was attracted toward a
very stout old lady, all decked out in holiday attire, with artificial
flowers in her bonnet, fresh roses in her belt, and a huge bouquet in
her hand, who came panting across from the Park gate.
"Hi! hi! wait a minute!" she cried, frantically waving her parasol, and
evidently under the impression that the car had already started off at a
gallop.
Dick moved away from the step to allow her plenty of room to get in,
when she exclaimed, "Oh, boy, can you tell me how long it will be before
this car leaves?"
"No, ma'am," he replied, much gratified because she had not called him
"_little_ boy," for he had just entered his teens.
"Oh deary me, I'm in such a hurry! I think I'll speak to the driver. But
I don't see any--why, where is he?" and the old lady bustled about from
one side of the car to the other so impatiently that it danced upon its
springs again.
Then she sat down for a minute, wiped her face with a perfumed
handkerchief, took a sniff from her smelling-bottle, and began fanning
herself with a fan which Dick thought she'd never finish opening out.
"I know I shall be too late, after all my promises, too!" and now there
was more of regret than impatience in the old lady's tones.
Meantime Dick had gone on an exploring expedition, and presently came
running back with the news that the driver had "a fit or something," and
was lying on the kitchen floor of a farm-house around the corner.
"How did he get there?" asked the old lady, in her short way.
"He must have felt it coming on and started for the house, for they
found him just outside the gate," replied Dick. "I didn't see him, but a
boy who was running for the doctor told me about it."
The lady looked serious for a minute, took another sniff from her
bottle, and then began: "Look here, boy, if you'll drive this car for me
down to Clayton Street, I'll give you a crisp, new one-dollar bill, and
a great many thanks besides. A friend of mine, whom I haven't seen since
she was a little girl, is going to be married at three o'clock, and I've
always promised I'd come to her wedding, even if I were three thousand
miles away, and here I am, less than three, and likely to miss it after
all!"
"I should think she'd wait till you come, ma'am," Dick ventured to
suggest, consolingly.
"Oh, bless you," continued the old lady, "she thinks I'm in California.
She sent the invitation to me out there, and it arrived just as I was
unexpectedly called back to New York, so I determined not to let them
know a word about it, but just walk in on them at the wedding. And now,
if you'll only drive me down to Clayton Street, I think I can do it yet.
I'm not afraid."
That last sentence nearly spoiled the effect of all the others, for Dick
didn't like to have anybody think he couldn't drive a car-horse if he
wanted to; but he graciously overlooked the blunder, promised to do the
driving if his passenger would be responsible to the company, and then
stepped out upon the front platform, feeling as if he had been asked to
ascend the throne of an empire.
As for the old lady, she settled herself comfortably back in a corner,
and began to button her white kid gloves.
Much impressed by this proof of the confidence reposed in his
horsemanship, Dick untied the lines, gave the brake a twirl, chirped to
the lazy nag, and, presto! the bell on the latter's neck commenced to
jingle as loudly as when the regular official held the ribbons.
What fun it was, to be sure! No steering out of ruts and around puddles,
the sole duties of the post being to slap the reins on the horse's back
now and then, and keep a hand on that fascinating brake. Dick's only
regret was that he had lost the opportunity of using the turn-table, but
having found the car headed in the right direction, there was no help
for it.
The street, as has been said, was a quiet one, especially so at that
time of day, and thus no one saw and wondered at the sight of Dick
Winworth, only son of the prominent lawyer, driving a "bobtail" car. As
for Dick himself, he had never imagined so much enjoyment could be had
by such simple means. The tinkle of the bell and the grating of the
wheels on the track were as music in his ears, while the task of keeping
the vehicle from running on to the horse's heels at down grades
furnished most enchanting occupation for hand and eye.
On a sudden the latter chanced to light on the green tin box fastened to
the dash-board, and he recollected that his passenger had not yet paid
her fare. So, with a very broad smile, he rang the "reminder" bell,
which caused the old lady to look up and smile too, as she handed him a
dime. Dick having shut the door that he might have the fun of giving
change through the "flap."
It was while he was thus engaged that he drove past a switch without
noticing it, and at the next corner a young lady held up her finger as a
sign for him to stop.
"What shall I do?" he called through the open window; for he felt that
in a sense the old lady had hired the whole car, and ought therefore to
be consulted before he admitted anybody else.
"Oh, let her get in, by all means," was his passenger's hospitable
response; and to Dick's infinite delight, she pulled the bell.
However, when the young lady had taken her seat, and begun gravely
fishing in her long knit purse for five cents, the serious side of his
situation rather troubled the boy, and for a while he kept his eyes
fixed steadily between the horse's ears, as if trying to see how this
queer sort of an adventure was going to end, when the sharp ring of the
bell over his head caused him to give a very undriver-like jump as he
turned to find out what was wanted.
"Here," whispered the old lady, as she slipped the promised crisp bill
through the flap, "this is Clayton Street. I'm ever so much obliged, and
please stop just as short as you can, for I've only five minutes to walk
to the house."
Then she hastened to the rear platform, and almost before the car came
to a stand-still she had stepped off, and was hurrying up a side street,
the white ribbons of her flowery bonnet streaming out behind.
And what was Dick to do now? He had completed the task intrusted to him,
and been paid for it, but he could not very well walk off and leave the
car standing there.
But if he should keep on, what would they say to him at the dépôt? and
how could he refer to the old lady, when she had forgotten to give him
her address? And there was the young lady patiently waiting inside.
Concluding that the finger of duty pointed onward, Dick was about to
start the horse, when he heard the jingling of a bell down the street
ahead of him. And then it flashed through his mind about the switch,
and he realized that here was another car coming on the same track in an
opposite direction.
What was to be done? For an instant the boy felt a strong inclination to
jump off and run away, but then that would be cowardly; besides, there
was the passenger. So he stuck to his post and the brake, and calmly
awaited the crisis.
[Illustration: VERY NEARLY A COLLISION.]
It arrived in due course, and came near being a collision as well, for
the other driver, who was behind time, had whipped up. There was a curve
in the street just there, and as Dick's car was standing still, there
was no sound of bell to give warning.
However, no harm was done; but how that driver did scold when he saw the
state of affairs!
Dick's young lady passenger fled in terror at the outbreak of the storm,
while Dick himself stood up as if under a shower-bath of cold water.
And now, to make matters worse, two more cars arrived from down town,
where it seemed there had been a blockade.
"The driver had a fit up at the Park," cried Dick, when he could make
himself heard; and then he told his story of the old lady and the
wedding, exhibiting the new dollar bill as proof of its truth. The three
drivers shook their heads over the story, but looked more respectfully
at the bill, which gave Dick an idea.
"Here," he cried, waving the dollar above his head, "you can divide this
amongst you to pay for any trouble I've made. Will that do?"
They all exclaimed at once that it would. Then a passenger appeared, who
knew Mr. Winworth, and who promised to explain matters to his neighbor,
the superintendent of the road.
Then they-- But Dick didn't wait to see how they got the cars
straightened out. He walked back home as fast as he could, wondering if
that dollar wouldn't have bought a pretty plate to replace the one he
had broken. However, he consoled himself with the thought that it was
easier to keep from breaking them in future than it was to earn whatever
they might cost by driving a car.