"Yes, he has! A good deal bigger! An' it's a dindy, too!" This corroboration rather disconcerted Horace, but he continued to scoff at any statement that Jimmie also owned a velocipede. As for the contention that this supposed velocipede could be larger than his own, he simply wouldn't hear of it. Jimmie had been a very gallant figure before the coming of Horace, but the new velocipede had relegated him to a squalid secondary position. So he affected to look with contempt upon it. Voluminously he bragged of the velocipede in the stable at home. He painted its virtues and beauty in loud and extravagant words, flaming words. And the retainer stood by, glibly endorsing everything. The little company heeded him, and he passed on vociferously from extravagance to utter impossibility. Horace was very sick of it. His defence was reduced to a mere mechanical grumbling: "Don't believe you got one 'tall. Don't believe you got one 'tall." Jimmie turned upon him suddenly. "How fast can you go? How fast can you go?" he demanded. "Let's see. I bet you can't go fast." Horace lifted his spirits and answered with proper defiance. "Can't I?" he mocked. "Can't I?" "No, you can't," said Jimmie. "You can't go fast." Horace cried: "Well, you see me now! I'll show you! I'll show you if I can't go fast!" Taking a firm seat on his vermilion machine, he pedalled furiously up the walk, turned, and pedalled back again. "There, now!" he shouted, triumphantly. "Ain't that fast? There, now!" There was a low murmur of appreciation from the little girls. Jimmie saw with pain that even his divinity was smiling upon his rival. "There! Ain't that fast? Ain't that fast?" He strove to pin Jimmie down to an admission. He was exuberant with victory. Notwithstanding a feeling of discomfiture, Jimmie did not lose a moment of time. "Why," he yelled, "that ain't goin' fast 'tall! That ain't goin' fast 'tall! Why, I can go almost _twice_ as fast as that! Almost _twice_ as fast! Can't I, Clarence?" The royal retainer nodded solemnly at the wide-eyed group. "Course you can!" "Why," spouted Jimmie, "you just ought to see me ride once! You just ought to see me! Why, I can go like the wind! Can't I, Clarence? And I can ride far, too--oh, awful far! Can't I, Clarence? Why, I wouldn't have that one! 'Tain't any good! You just ought to see mine once!" The overwhelmed Horace attempted to reconstruct his battered glories. "I can ride right over the curb-stone--at some of the crossin's," he announced, brightly. Jimmie's derision was a splendid sight. "_'Right over the curb-stone!_' Why, that wouldn't be _nothin'_ for me to do! I've rode mine down Bridge Street hill. Yessir! 'Ain't I, Clarence? Why, it ain't nothin' to ride over a curb-stone--not for _me_! Is it, Clarence?" "Down Bridge Street hill? You never!" said Horace, hopelessly. "Well, didn't I, Clarence? Didn't I, now?" The faithful retainer again nodded solemnly at the assemblage.