It is of record that even a worm upon extreme irritation will fall upon its tormentor. Thus Ike reacted to this notable example of feminine ignorance. "How's ah gwine mek dis yere high powah caah run dat slow? Ah ast you dat? How's ah gwine do it?" Apparently heedless of this incipient rebellion, Serena gave her attention to her young mistress, "Good bye, honey chil'," she worried. "Don' you mek youse'f sick on sody an' ice cream." Virginia smiled sweetly at the now beaming black face of the negro woman. "I'll be very careful," she promised. Serena devoted herself again to her minion. "You Ike, go slow. Go mighty cafful. Dat's wot ah say." He looked askance at her. Every vestige of humor had departed from the black face replaced by a cold, implacable glare. Without a word, he started the machine and it glided down the drive. Her purchases completed, Virginia sat musing upon the message from her mother as the big car hummed softly towards the quiet beauty of the river road. Vague plans, indefinite as dreams, floated through her mind. Ike was obeying Serena's wishes so faithfully that the absence of excitement, so essential to the display of what he considered his best talents, was almost lulling him to sleep. A large bill board fenced the front of a vacant lot, on their way. A magnificent example of the lithographer's art, as adapted to the advertising needs of a minstrel show, was posted upon it. It's coloring, chiefly red, was effective and forceful and displayed an extravagant disregard of the high cost of ink. It portrayed the triumphant passage of the Jubilee Minstrels. The brilliant uniforms, the martial air of the musicians as well as the exceeding pleasure with which this aggregation appeared to be welcomed by the reviewing public, was of a character to please, to impress, yes, even to stun all beholders, except the blind. This picture caught the soul of Ike as he came within the scope of its influence. To him, applause and admiration were as strong drink. Envy knocked at his heart as he beheld the bright raiment. He visualized himself, thus dazzlingly attired, exhibited to his admiring fellow townsmen. Violating speed laws was infantile piffle to this. A syncopated melody, appropriate to a victorious march, blared in memory's ear. He hummed it softly. His body twitched to the rhythm and his feet took up the cadence. He pressed a pedal and the powerful car accelerated its motion well above the modest limits commanded by Serena. To the shell of Ike, the increased speed was but a return to normal. His spirit was away. Expanding as a morning-glory to the sun, it paraded, in wondrous garments, to martial music, before gaping thousands. A turn in their way was before them. Ike partially roused himself from his sweet dreams and automatically attended to the necessities of the moment. These included no slackening of speed.