“I hope, however, that you will let me read the catalogue for myself some time. I no longer wonder that so successful a collector should be eager for an additional specimen. I happen to have some little acquaintance with the man who runs our steam-roller; perhaps I could arrange to have your wish for a ride gratified.” “Oh, if you _only_ could!” she exclaimed, looking so hopefully expectant that I secretly vowed the thing should come to pass or I would know the most unanswerable of reasons why. I had learned that Antaeus was neither a native nor a naturalized citizen of our town, but that he owed allegiance to a firm of contractors in a distant city, whose delegate and sole representative here was the Driver; consequently if I could prevail upon him to lend Antaeus I need apprehend no interference from the town authorities. I began upon the Driver the next forenoon. My persuasiveness took a conventional form, for, not being gifted with an oily tongue, I was forced to trust for success in a great measure upon my chance of stupefying the Driver's conscience with the fumes of several superfine cigars. I spent about two hours in company with Antaeus, taking many turns up and down the street with him for the special purpose of observing his manners and customs. With the advice and consent of his guardian I learned to start, to stop, to reverse, and to steer to my own satisfaction. I had intended to broach the important question that day, but, fearing I might not yet have sufficiently blunted the Driver's moral sensibilities, my courage failed at the critical moment and I permitted myself the expensive luxury of procrastination. The next day I found the task no easier, and so put it off again, but on the day after I awakened to the fact that delays are dangerous and made the fateful plunge. I frankly told the Driver the whole story, under the belief that he would be less likely to refuse the petition of a lady than one made in my own name. If he had suspected all the while, from my persistent attentions, that I had an axe to grind he did not mortify me by showing it. He accepted my fifth cigar as he had my first, with an air of supposing it to be offered from motives of the most disinterested friendliness. I did not meet with success in the outset. The Driver had grave doubts as to the propriety of “loaning” a steam-roller. Had he been a Frenchman he might reasonably have urged that, like a tooth-brush, _ça ne se prête pas_. However, I overcame his scruples in the end, and, probably in the belief that “if it were done 'twere well it were done quickly,” he agreed to deliver Antaeus into my charge that evening.