“And maybe it was two-sixty,” suggested Tom laughingly. “Never mind, though, if he can get from the station to town in half an hour he will be good enough for us. We’ll look you up after dinner, Jerry, and see what your father says. You try to make him let us have him.” “Don’t you worry,” replied Jerry, pouring himself a third tumblerful from the glass pitcher. “When he understands that I’m going to drive him it’ll be all right.” “Say, I’m going to drive him sometimes, ain’t I?” demanded Spider. “You said――――” “Of course,” answered Jerry impatiently from behind his glass. “Only dad would feel easier in his mind, you see, if he knew I was in charge. I’ll let you drive him――sometimes.” Spider didn’t look quite satisfied with the tone of that promise, but made no further protest, and Willard asked them if they wanted to take a ride before The Ark went to the station to meet the 11:34. They did, and after hurriedly finishing the contents of the pitcher and returning the vanilla bottle to the kitchen cupboard in a somewhat surreptitious manner, Spider and Jerry tumbled into the back of the car. “Spider doesn’t believe that I ran this one day,” observed Jerry presently as they rolled down the gentle slope of Walnut Street. “I did, didn’t I, Tom?” “You did,” responded Tom grimly. “And it’s a wonder you didn’t kill yourself and smash the car up!” Spider laughed tauntingly until Jerry pummeled him into silence. “Anyway,” said the irrepressible Jerry, “you’ve got to own I did mighty well considering I’d never driven before, Tom. I did do mighty well, didn’t I, Will?” “You did,” answered Willard gravely. “The way you just didn’t smash into the back of that dray was a――a marvel of skill, Jerry. I hope you can drive a horse as well as you can drive an automobile.” Jerry grinned. “Sure I can. You see there isn’t so much――what-you-call-it――mechanism to a horse, Will. If you want a horse to stop you say ‘Whoa, you slab-sided, knock-kneed giraffe!’ and he whoas.” “He does?” asked Willard. “If I was a horse and you said that to me I’d run away and break your silly neck! Is that the way you talk to Julius Cæsar?” “Oh, it doesn’t matter what you say to him,” replied Jerry carelessly, “because he doesn’t hear you. He’s sort of deaf, you know.” “I hope he isn’t blind, too,” said Tom pessimistically as he guided The Ark around the corner into Main Street. “Not much,” answered Jerry cheerfully. “One eye’s pretty good yet.” “He must be a peach!” said Spider witheringly. “How many legs has he got left, Jerry?” “Four or five; I forget which. Say, Tom, go through Spruce Street so George Connors can see us, will you?” “What for?” “So that I can make a face at him,” responded Jerry promptly. “I told him the other day I could ride in your car any time I wanted to, and he said I couldn’t. I just want to show him I can.” CHAPTER XX INTRODUCING JULIUS CÆSAR