Three Elephant Power and Other Stories by A. B. (Andrew Barton) Paterson
page 6 of 124 (04%)
page 6 of 124 (04%)
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"No, I don't."
"'E got a ninety," said Alfred slowly, giving time for the words to soak in. "A ninety! What do you mean?" "'E got a ninety -- a ninety-horse-power racin' engine wot was made for some American millionaire and wasn't as fast as wot some other millionaire had, so he sold it for the price of the iron, and Henery got it, and had a body built for it, and he comes out here and tells us all it's a twenty mongrel -- you know, one of them cars that's made part in one place and part in another, the body here and the engine there, and the radiator another place. There's lots of cheap cars made like that. "So Henery he says that this is a twenty mongrel -- only a four-cylinder engine; and nobody drops to what she is till Henery goes out one Sunday and waits for the big Napier that Scotty used to drive -- it belonged to the same bloke wot owned that big racehorse wot won all the races. So Henery and Scotty they have a fair go round the park while both their bosses is at church, and Henery beat him out o' sight -- fair lost him -- and so Henery was reckoned the boss of the road. No one would take him on after that." A nasty creek-crossing here required Alfred's attention. A little girl, carrying a billy-can of water, stood by the stepping stones, and smiled shyly as we passed. Alfred waved her a salute quite as though he were an ordinary human being. I felt comforted. He had his moments of relaxation evidently, and his affections like other people. |
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