"Because, my dear, an all-wise Providence has decreed that express
trains shall not haul private cars."

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Mr. Porter. "That makes all the difference in
the world."

"Only a day's difference."

"I mean . . ."

"You're going as our guest, you know."

"But really, Mr. Middleton, I never . . ."

"Don't be absurd, my boy."

"No," said Mr. Blakely Porter, "I won't be absurd. I shall be more
than glad to go as your guest."

"That's the way it should be. Isn't it, Elizabeth!"

"I didn't know you owned a private car, Dad."

"Pshaw!" said Dad. "What's a private car?"

I smiled at what I was pleased to term "Dad's magnificence," little
thinking I was soon to look on private cars as one of the most
delectable of modern inventions.