“All right; just jump into the one you like best and drive on down to the Old Hickory Club and say it to him.  Sorry that you can’t come along, Mrs. Pat, but that glad rag you’ve got on is too great a beauty with which to appear in public.  Better take it into the house before you catch a cold in this breeze.”

“Yes, I must run in,” answered Madam Whitworth with a slight shivering in her gown of great thinness.  “They are perfectly wonderful, boy, and I say choose the brown darling.”

“Governor Bill picked the cherry from the catalogue for us day before yesterday, but I think the amethyst has got it beat,” answered my Buzz as he started towards his own car.  “Jump into your choice and lead me on down to hear you refuse it to old Forty-Two Centimeter.”

Then without further remark, I followed him down the steps and got into that car which was the color of the heart of the cherry and I raced that Mr. Bumble Bee through the city of Hayesville in a manner which put to flight a large population thereof.  I had not had my hands on the wheel of a racing car for the many months since my father in his had left the small Pierre and Nannette and me weeping on the terrace of the Chateau de Grez when he went to the battlefield of the Marne, and I drove with all of that accumulated fury within me.  And I could see that my Buzz enjoyed it as much as did I, though in his face was a great fear as several very large policemen waved their hands at us and then savagely transcribed the numbers of his car in books from their pockets when we whirled on with refusal to stop and listen to their remarks.

And this is what my Uncle, the General Robert, answered to me as I told him of my unworthiness of his gift of the most beautiful cherry car: 

“That is a just return for your consideration for me in being born a boy, and I hope you’ll break the necks of about two dozen young females in this town before the week’s out.  Begin on that baggage, Susan, right away.”  And as he spoke, my Uncle, the General Robert, came down the steps of the great Club of Old Hickory with the Gouverneur Faulkner and stood beside my Cherry with me.

“He’s no better man than I, General, and I’ve been trying it all year,” answered my Buzz with one of those delectable grinnings upon his face.

“Indeed, my much loved Uncle Robert, it is impossible that I accept your gift in gratitude that I am not a woman, because for the good reason—­” and my honor was about to rise up in arms and betray the daredevil and her schemes within me when that good and most beloved Gouverneur Faulkner interrupted me by stepping into the Cherry beside me with a laugh.

“Thank you, General; this is just what I need in all of my business with Robert.  We’ll be back in time to dine with you at seven here at the Club.  Go out to the West End, Robert.”  And with his hand on the spark he started the Cherry, and I was forced to sweep away from my Buzz and my Uncle, the General Robert, into the traffic and away from the Club of Old Hickory, which is named for a very great general of America and is a club of much fashion and some bad behavior, my Buzz has said to me.