"Gold under the earth, and gold over the earth," thought Nick. "That's
California!" And he thought, too, of the gold of Angela's hair. "She'd
look mighty well in this yellow car, floating along among the white and
gold of oranges and orange-blossoms, all white and gold herself," he said.
"And she's _going_ to look well in it. That's what I got it for. That's
what I've been working for till this auto's fit to eat out of my hand. And
gee! but I've been going some!"

He grinned under his motor mask as he recalled the strenuous hours. He had
enjoyed them, but he had hated the mask; and so soon as the time came--he
thought it must come soon--when he could reap the reward of labour he
meant to shed the abomination. It had served its purpose by letting him
come by accident once or twice within full sight of the Model, safe from
recognition. He had not wanted Mrs. May to find out prematurely that he
was dogging her tire tracks in a car which might have shot past her like
a comet. She had misunderstood him too often already, and he wished her to
think him safe at Lucky Star Ranch; until the moment when she would
rejoice to see him at any price.

More than once during the last four days of practice and probation Nick
had been tempted to offer his services. But common-sense had held him back
when the blue car was in trouble. It had warned him that a little bitter
experience might incline the lady to be lenient. Several minor breakdowns,
disappointments, and vexations were needed before she would see matters
eye to eye with him. And Nick thought himself lucky that, so far, the
Model had not been permanently disabled. Now, if anything happened, he was
ready.

* * * * *