After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal the identity of the boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A week of instruction by Morris and a second week spent in operating alone had made him a fairly competent driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a corner was something to be approached with vast anxiety and to be negotiated with care and deliberation. Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car shone resplendently, and every particle of brass was polished until it was painful to view. Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced results. The screen door flew open, and Gordon, a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in the other, appeared. “Say, what time do you think it is?” he demanded laughingly. “It’s time you were through breakfast, anyway,” responded Dick. “Get a hustle on. _Eli_ hates to stand.” (Dick had named the car _Eli Yale_ because of its color, but generally referred to it as _Eli_.) “I’ll bring a lump of sugar for him,” said Gordon. “Keep a tight rein on him, Dick, and I’ll be with you in five minutes. Maybe he will stand long enough for you to come in and have a cup of coffee.” “I wouldn’t dare risk it,” replied Dick gravely. “Besides, I never take coffee in the middle of the forenoon.” “Middle of the forenoon!” grunted the other. “It isn’t half-past eight yet! Since you got that car, you never go to bed at all, I guess!” Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned comfortably back in the runabout to wait. But an instant later a speck of tarnish on the dash clock—a gift from Louise Brent—caught his eye, and he whisked a piece of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door and attacked it indignantly. Before he had conquered it, returned the cloth and buttoned the flap again, Gordon appeared once more, capped and ready for the ride. “All set?” Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. “All set,” he said. Gordon turned the handle half over, and _Eli_ broke into a frantic chugging that could be heard six blocks away. Dick pushed back the throttle and pulled down the spark, however, and _Eli_ moderated his transports. Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned as he climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door. “Gee,” he said, “but he’s some noisy!” “Not at all,” denied Dick indignantly. “He naturally chortles a little at times.” “Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing his bit. Hello, see who’s here!” added Gordon, as the car swayed across B Street. A lusty shouting was heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk. Dick stopped. “W-w-where you going?” panted Fudge. “Take me, too, Dick. You haven’t given me a ride yet!” “All right,” laughed Dick. “Open the door and sit on the edge there, Fudge. But don’t drag your big feet and stop the car.” “Go get your cap,” advised Gordon. “Don’t need a cap. Where are you going?” “Oh, just for a ride,” replied Dick, throwing in his clutch again after a calculating survey of the empty street.