“Nope—­nothing to signify.  Got some purple patches on my person and a twist to my wrist, but that’s all.  I was always a lucky devil.  Got more lives than a cat.”

He was obviously trying to carry matters off lightly, but never once did he meet his uncle’s eyes, though he was quite aware they were fixed on him.

Tony sighed and shook her head, troubled.

“I wish you wouldn’t take such risks,” she mourned.  “Some day you’ll get dreadfully hurt.  Please be careful.  Uncle Phil,” she appealed to the higher court, “do tell him he mustn’t speed so.  He won’t listen to me.”

“If Ted hasn’t learned the folly of speeding by now, I am afraid that nothing I can say will have much effect.  I wonder—­”

Just here the telephone interrupted with an announcement that Mr. Carson was waiting downstairs.  Tony flew from the phone to dab powder on her nose.

“Since we can’t go riding I think I’ll take Dick for a walk in Paradise,” she announced into the mirror.  “Will you come, too, Uncle Phil?”

“No, thank you, dear.  Run along and tell Dick we expect him back to supper with us.”

The doctor held open the door for his niece, then turned back to Ted, who was also on his feet now, murmuring something about going out for a stroll.

“Wait a bit, son.  Suppose you tell me first precisely what happened last night.”

“Did tell you.”  The boy fumbled sulkily at the leaves of a magazine that lay on the table.  “I took the car out and, when I was speeding like Sam Hill out on the Florence road, I struck a hole.  She stood up on her ear and pitched u—­er—­me out in the gutter.  Stuck her own nose into a telephone pole.  I telephoned the garage people to go after her this morning.  They told me a while ago she was pretty badly stove up and it will probably take a couple of weeks to get her in order.”  The story came out jerkily and the narrator kept his eyes consistently floorward during the recital.

“Is that all?”

“What more do you want?” curtly.  “I said I was sorry, if that is what you mean.”

“It isn’t what I mean, Ted.  I assume you didn’t deliberately go out to break my car and that you are not particularly proud of the outcome of your joy ride.  I mean, exactly what I asked.  Have you told me the whole story?”

Ted was silent, mechanically rolling the corner of the, rug under his foot.  His uncle studied the good-looking, unhappy young face.  His mind worked back to that inadvertent “u—­er—­me” of the confession.

“Were you alone?” he asked.

A scarlet flush swept the lad’s face, died away, leaving it a little white.

“Yes.”