started about the same time he did.

Barlow. Oh, that's all right, Ned. She knows her wheel as well as
you know your business. Can't come down quite as fast as the "L,"
particularly these nights just before election. She may have fallen
in with some political parade, and is waiting to get across the
street.

Bradley (aside). Well, I like that!

Mrs. Perkins (aside). Why--it's awful!

Yardsley. Or she may possibly have punctured her tire--that would
delay her fifteen or twenty minutes. Don't worry, my dear boy. I
showed her how to fix a punctured tire all right. It's simple
enough--you take the rubber thing they give you and fasten it in that
metal thingumbob, glue it up, poke it in, pull it out, pump her up,
and there you are.

Bradley (scornfully). You told her that, did you?

Yardsley. I did.

Bradley (with a mock sigh of relief). You don't know what a load
you've taken off my mind.

Barlow (looking at his watch). H'm! Thaddeus, it's nine o'clock. I
move we go out and have the lesson. Eh? The moon is just right.

Yardsley. Yes--we can't begin too soon. Wheel all right?