Dorothy's Triumph

“W’at’s dat, Miss Aurory? A show fer? A show fer w’at?”

“A chauffeur, Ephy, is a man who drives an automobile.”

“One o’ dem fellers dat sets up in de front seat en turns de steerin’ apparatus?”

“Exactly. How would you like to do that?”

“I ain’t nebber monkeyed round dem gasoline contraptions none, but I reckon I’d like tuh do w’at yo’ say, Miss Aurory – yas’m; I jes’ reckon I would.”

“Well, Gerald is coming over some time to-day to show you and Jim a few things about the car. You will take turns playing chauffeur on our camping trip, and he wants to give you a lesson every day until we leave.”

“Dat suah suits me,” grinned the old negro.

“But what did you want, Ephy?” Dorothy asked, recalling him suddenly to his errand.

“Oh, Lordy, I done fergit w’at I come fo’. Lemme see – oh, yas’m, I got er lettah fo’ yo’. Jes’ lemme see where I put dat doggone – er – beggin’ yo’ pawdon, young ladies, I – Heah hit is!”

The letter, fished from one of Ephraim’s capacious pockets, was quickly handed over.

“Oh, it’s from Molly!” the girl cried, joyously, as she looked at the postmark. “Let’s see what she has to say. You may go, Ephy.”

“Yas’m,” responded the darkey, and with an elaborate bow he departed.

Tearing open the letter, Dorothy read as follows:

“My Dear, Dear Chum: —

“To say that I was overwhelmed by your very kind invitation, is to express it mildly, indeed. The surprise was complete. I had hardly realized that you had finished your course at Oak Knowe and returned to Baltimore. It is strange how rapidly the time flies past.

“We returned from California, some two weeks ago. Papa is greatly improved in health, for which we are all duly thankful. He says he feels like a new man and his actions bear out his words. He wants to know how his little Dorothy is, and when she is coming to visit him. In the meantime, it may be that I shall bring the answer to him in person, as I am leaving next Monday evening for Baltimore, and you, dear Dorothy!

“How glad I shall be to see you! As for the camping trip, you know how I love an outing, and this, I am sure, will prove to be one of the finest I have ever had. So, until Tuesday morning, when you meet me at the train, au revoir.

    “Ever your loving
    ”Molly.”

“I just know I shall like Molly Breckenridge,” cried Aurora. “Such a nice letter! I have already pictured in my mind the sort of girl that wrote it.”

“You will like her, Aurora, for she is one of the best girls that ever breathed. Full of mischief, yes, but with a heart as big as a mountain. There is nothing she won’t do for anyone fortunate enough to be called her friend.”

“I hope to be that fortunate before our trip is over. But you, Dorothy, are more than friend to her. One can see that from the tone of the letter.”

“I hope and believe I am her dearest chum.”

“You are my dearest chum, Dorothy Calvert!” cried Aunt Betty, who entered the room at this moment. “How are you, Aurora?”

“Very well, Mrs. Calvert.”

“I am glad to see you here. My little girl will get lonesome, I fear, unless her friends drop in frequently to see her.”

“I shall almost live over here, now Dorothy is home,” replied Aurora.

“Indeed she will,” Dorothy put in. “And Molly is coming, Aunt Betty!” Triumphantly she displayed the letter. “Ephy just brought it. Want to read it?”

“No; you can tell me all about it, dear,” returned Aunt Betty. “I am glad she is coming. I hardly thought she’d refuse. Judge Breckenridge is very good to her, and allows her to travel pretty much as she wills.”

The talk turned again to the camping trip.

“I have talked it over with Dorothy,” said Aunt Betty, “and we have decided to be ready Wednesday morning.”

“That will suit us fine,” said Aurora. “Gerald couldn’t get away before Tuesday anyway, and another day will not matter. He thinks we’d better plan to start in the cool of the morning, stopping for breakfast about eight o’clock at some village along the route – there are plenty of them, you know. The recent rains have settled the dust, and the trip, itself, should be very agreeable. We figure on being out only one night, reaching the mountains on the second morning. Of course, if pushed, the auto could make it in much less time, but Gerald thinks we’d better take our time and enjoy the ride.”

“The plan is a fine one,” said Aunt Betty, “especially the getting away in the early morning, before the hot part of the day sets in.”

“I thoroughly agree with you, auntie,” said Dorothy.

“If we fail to find a village,” Aunt Betty continued, “where we can get coffee and rolls, we will draw on our own supply of provisions and eat our breakfast en route. Or we can stop by the wayside, where Ephy can make a fire and I can make some coffee.”

“Oh, you make my mouth water,” said Aurora, who knew that Aunt Betty Calvert’s coffee was famous for miles around.

Aurora took her leave a short while later, and hardly had she gone before Gerald Blank drew up in front of the Calvert place in his big automobile and cried out for Jim and Ephraim.

Neither the boy nor the negro needed a second invitation. Each had been keen in anticipation of the ride – Jim because of his natural interest in mechanism of any sort; Ephraim because he felt proud of the title “chauffeur,” which Aurora had bestowed upon him, and was curious to have his first lesson in running “dat contraption,” as he termed it.

“I tell you, Gerald, she’s a dandy,” said Jim, after the boys had shaken hands and made a few formal inquiries about the interval which had elapsed since last they met. As Jim spoke, his eye roamed over the long torpedo body of the big touring car.

Straight from the factory but a few weeks since, replete with all the latest features, the machine represented the highest perfection of skilled mechanical labor. The body was enameled in gray and trimmed in white, after the fashion of many of the torpedo type of machines which were then coming into vogue.

Seeing Jim’s great interest, Gerald, who was already a motor enthusiast, went from one end of the car to the other, explaining all the fine points.

“There is not a mechanical feature of the Ajax that has not been thoroughly proven out in scores of successful cars,” he said. “Now, here, for instance, is the engine.” Throwing back the hood of the machine, the boy exposed the mechanism. “That’s the Renault type of motor, known as ‘the pride of France,’ and one of the finest ever invented. Great engineers have gone on record that the men who put the Ajax car together have advanced five years ahead of the times. You will notice, Jim, that the engine valves are all on one side. You’re enough of a mechanician to appreciate the advantage of that. It makes it simple and compact, and gives great speed and power. We should have little trouble in traveling seventy miles an hour, if we chose.”

“Lordy, we ain’t gwine tuh chose!” cried Eph.

“Why, I thought you had the speed mania, Ephy,” was Gerald’s good-natured retort.

“Don’ know jes’ w’at dat is, Mistah Gerald, but I ain’t got hit – no, sah, I ain’t got hit.”

“Now, Jim,” Gerald continued, as they bent over to look under the car, “you see the gear is of the selective sliding type, which has been adopted by all the high grade cars. And back here is what they term a floating axle. The wheels and tires are both extra large – in fact, there is nothing about the car, that I’ve been able to discover, that is not the best in the business.”

“What a fine automobile agent you’d make, Gerald!”

“Do you think so?”

“Surely. You spiel it off like a professional. The only difference is, I feel what you say is true. I am greatly taken with that engine, and should like to see it run.”

“When we start in a moment, you shall have that pleasure. Of course, I could run it for you now, while the machine is standing still, but they say it’s poor practice to race your engine. If you do so, the wear and tear is something awful.”

“I’d heard that, but had forgotten,” said Jim.