Motor records are his weakness.
What's the latest?
STRAKER.
Paris to Biskra at forty mile an hour average, not countin the Mediterranean.
TANNER.
How many killed?
STRAKER.
Two silly sheep.
What does it matter?
Sheep don't cost such a lot: they were glad to ave the price without the trouble o sellin em to the butcher.
All the same, d'y'see, there'll be a clamor agin it presently; and then the French Government'll stop it; an our chance will be gone see?
That what makes me fairly mad: Mr Tanner won't do a good run while he can.
TANNER.
Tavy: do you remember my uncle James?
OCTAVIUS.
Yes.
Why?
TANNER.
Uncle James had a first rate cook: he couldn't digest anything except what she cooked.
Well, the poor man was shy and hated society.
But his cook was proud of her skill, and wanted to serve up dinners to princes and ambassadors.
To prevent her from leaving him, that poor old man had to give a big dinner twice a month, and suffer agonies of awkwardness.
Now here am I; and here is this chap Enry Straker, the New Man.
I loathe travelling; but I rather like Enry.
He cares for nothing but tearing along in a leather coat and goggles, with two inches of dust all over him, at sixty miles an hour and the risk of his life and mine.
Except, of course, when he is lying on his back in the mud under the machine trying to find out where it has given way.
Well, if I don't give him a thousand mile run at least once a fortnight I shall lose him.
He will give me the sack and go to some American millionaire; and I shall have to put up with a nice respectful groom-gardener-amateur, who will touch his hat and know his place.
I am Enry's slave, just as Uncle James was his cook's slave.
STRAKER. [exasperated] Garn!
I wish I had a car that would go as fast as you can talk, Mr Tanner.
What I say is that you lose money by a motor car unless you keep it workin.
Might as well ave a pram and a nussmaid to wheel you in it as that car and me if you don't git the last inch out of us both.
TANNER. [soothingly] All right, Henry, all right.
We'll go out for half an hour presently.
STRAKER. [in disgust] Arf an ahr! [He returns to his machine; seats himself in it; and turns up a fresh page of his paper in search of more news].
OCTAVIUS.
Oh, that reminds me.
I have a note for you from Rhoda. [He gives Tanner a note].
TANNER. [opening it] I rather think Rhoda is heading for a row with Ann.
As a rule there is only one person an English girl hates more than she hates her mother; and that's her eldest sister.
But Rhoda positively prefers her mother to Ann.
She—[indignantly] Oh, I say!
OCTAVIUS.
What's the matter?
TANNER.
Rhoda was to have come with me for a ride in the motor car.
She says Ann has forbidden her to go out with me.
Straker suddenly begins whistling his favorite air with remarkable deliberation.
Surprised by this burst of larklike melody, and jarred by a sardonic note in its cheerfulness, they turn and look inquiringly at him.