I drove Parsifal up to our modest home, and all the way there we
ran neck and neck with a coal cart.
Parsifal used to be a fast horse, but quite some time ago he
stopped eating his wild oats and now leads a slower life.
When I reached the gate I whistled for Peaches, because I was
afraid to get out and leave Parsifal alone. He might go to sleep
and fall down.
My wife came out, looked at the rig, and then went back in the
house and bade everybody an affecting farewell.
There were tears in her eyes when she came out and climbed into the
buggy. She said she was crying because Aunt Martha wasn't there to
see us driving away and have the laugh of her life.
We started off and we were rushing along the road, passing a
fence and overtaking a telegraph pole every once in a while, when
suddenly we heard behind us a very insistent choof-choof-choof-choof!
"It's one of those Careless Wagons," I whispered to Peaches, and
then we both looked at Parsifal to see if there was a mental
struggle going on in his forehead, but he was rushing onward with
his head down, watching his feet to make sure they didn't step on
each other.
Choof-choof-choof! came the Torpedo Destroyer behind us, and I
wrapped the reins around my wrist, in case Parsifal should get
uneasy and want to print horseshoes all over that automobile.
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