That seems very moderate."

"I guess it is! The feller owes me some money, and this is the only way
I'd ever get it off him."

"Is he a garage-keeper?"

"Not exactly!" Walter uttered husky sounds of amusement. "You'll be just
as happy, I guess, if you don't know who he is," he said.

His tone misgave her; and she said truthfully that she was content not
to know who owned the car. "I joke sometimes about how you keep things
to yourself," she added, "but I really never do pry in your affairs,
Walter."

"Oh, no, you don't!"

"Indeed, I don't."

"Yes, you're mighty nice and cooing when you got me where you want me,"
he jeered. "Well, _I_ just as soon tell you where I get this car."

"I'd just as soon you wouldn't, Walter," she said, hurriedly. "Please
don't."

But Walter meant to tell her. "Why, there's nothin' exactly CRIMINAL
about it," he said. "It belongs to old J. A. Lamb himself. He keeps it
for their coon chauffeur. I rent it from him."

"From Mr. LAMB?"

"No; from the coon chauffeur."

"Walter!" she gasped.

"Sure I do! I can get it any night when the coon isn't goin' to use it
himself. He's drivin' their limousine to-night--that little Henrietta
Lamb's goin' to the party, no matter if her father HAS only been dead
less'n a year!" He paused, then inquired: "Well, how d'you like it?"

She did not speak, and he began to be remorseful for having imparted
so much information, though his way of expressing regret was his own.
"Well, you WILL make the folks make me take you to parties!" he said. "I
got to do it the best way I CAN, don't I?"

Then as she made no response, "Oh, the car's CLEAN enough," he said.
"This coon, he's as particular as any white man; you needn't worry about
that." And as she still said nothing, he added gruffly, "I'd of had a
better car if I could afforded it. You needn't get so upset about it."

"I don't understand--" she said in a low voice--"I don't understand how
you know such people."

"Such people as who?"

"As--coloured chauffeurs."

"Oh, look here, now!" he protested, loudly. "Don't you know this is a
democratic country?"

"Not quite that democratic, is it, Walter?"

"The trouble with you," he retorted, "you don't know there's anybody in
town except just this silk-shirt crowd." He paused, seeming to await
a refutation; but as none came, he expressed himself definitely: "They
make me sick."

They were coming near their destination, and the glow of the big,
brigh