Ward Beecher that you felt uplifted just to be with him; and that
you knew instinctively that his car was sure to be the best car.

A picture of the Fearless settled the matter, for it was a real
little beauty--long in the chassis and very low, with wood
artillery wheels and guards and lamps thrown in for nothing.
Harry said it had more power than it knew what to do with and was
a bird on the hills, and that he had a friend who had a friend
who owned one and swore by it. Afterward we met him and towed
him nine miles, and what swearing he did was all the other way;
however, I mustn't get ahead of the story, or anticipate, as they
say in novels.

Getting two hundred and fifty dollars from pa was the next step,
and of all my automobiling experiences it was certainly the
worst. He couldn't see it at all, though I caught him after
dinner and sat on the arm of his chair and rubbed my cheek
against his like the sunny-haired daughter on the stage.

He ought to have reciprocated by doing angel parent, but he
talked horse-sense instead; how he couldn't afford to buy me a
whole car, and how in his experience divided ownership always
ended in the people hating one another ever afterward, and how
dangerous automobiling was anyway, and how much nicer it would be
to have a beautiful little horse.

Then I gave him the iron-clad agreement. He put on his
spectacles and read it, asking me not to breathe on his neck, as
it tickled him. (How different real life is from the stage!)
And he began to giggle at the second page; at the third he could