“But, sir, our machines never break down. That is why we are selling one every minute in the working-day. Our agents are located in every known city of the earth, and our factories are running day and night, and in spite of it we are falling behind in our orders in a rapidly increasing ratio.” “Is that so?” said Mr. Tucker, turning to leave the store. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to go elsewhere, as I wanted one shipped to me to-morrow or next day. A birthday present for my wife, you understand.” “Oh, I suppose,” said the wily salesman, “that I _could_ let you in ahead of your turn if the payment were cash.” “Of course the payment will be cash. That’s the only way I ever pay.” A half-hour from that time John Tucker was being propelled through New York’s busy streets in a smoothly running, almost noiseless, automobile worked from behind, and its way led down to a harness store in Chambers Street. As yet there were no shafts, but he had provided for a pair. Mr. Tucker went into the harness-store. “Good-day,” said he. “I want to buy a wooden horse like the one out in front, only covered with horse-skin.” “Well, sir,” said the clerk, “we don’t manufacture them ourselves but we can order one for you. Going into the harness business?” “No, but I want to try an experiment. Would it be possible for me to have a mechanical horse built that would move its legs in a passable imitation of trotting?” “Nowadays everything is possible,” said the salesman; “but it would be very expensive.” “Well, I’ll tell you just what I want it for,” said Mr. Tucker, and entered into details concerning Mrs. Tucker’s aversion to automobiles, her ivy-poisoning, and his scheme. The clerk seemed interested. “If the lady’s eyes are as inflamed as all that,” said he, “she would not notice the lack of natural motion, and it would be easy to place a contrivance inside of the figure that would imitate the sound of trotting, and your wife’s imagination would do the rest. But I think that your idea of having the horse on a platform like the one out front is not a good one. If the platform struck a rock in the road it would knock the whole thing to smithereens. Better place smallish wheels on the inner side of the ankles, fix the hind legs so they will be jointed at the thighs, and then you can run up hill and down dale with no trouble.” Mr. Tucker clapped his hands like a boy. “That’s fine! My wife will get thoroughly used to an automobile without knowing she is riding in one, and then when she recovers the use of her eyes I’ll give the wooden horse a well-earned rest. Call up that factory on the ’phone, and I’ll order my hobby-horse at once. You think that I can get it in a day or two?” “It’s only a question of expense, sir, and you say that is nothing.” “Of course it’s nothing. Nothing is anything if I can take my wife out automobiling without her knowing it.” Three days later Mr. Tucker said to his wife at luncheon: