" The lawyer's tone was sharp.
"Humph! Well, take my advice and don't. Yachts are all right, to have
a good time on, but they cost like the devil to keep up. An auto is bad
enough. By the way, Sylvester, did you hear about my running over the
Irishman this morning?"
"Running over?" repeated the captain, aghast. "You didn't run over
nobody, I hope."
"Well, I came devilish near it. Ha! ha! You see, the old tarrier
was crossing Saint Nicholas Avenue, with a big market basket full
of provisions--the family dinner, I suppose. By Jove, the household
appetites must be good ones. It was slippery as the mischief, I was
running the car, and I tried to go between the fellow and the curb.
It would have been a decent bit of steering if I'd made it. But--ha!
ha!--by Jove, you know, I didn't. I skidded. The man himself managed
to hop out of the way, but his foot slipped, and down he went. Most
ridiculous thing you ever saw. And the street! 'Pon my word it was paved
with eatables."
Sylvester, plainly annoyed, did not reply. But Captain Elisha's concern
was evident.
"The poor critter!" he exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"The last I saw of him he was sitting in the mud, looking at the upset.
I didn't linger. Peters took the wheel, and we beat it.
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