Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 139, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 June 1911 — Limousine and Limited [ARTICLE]

Limousine and Limited

BY M. J. PHILLIPS

(Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Press.)

Jimmie Bennett knew something would happen if he took out the limousine on so beautiful an early summer day. But there was nothing else for It James Bennett Sr., had the touring car and the chauffeur; the runabout was out of the question; and the electric had a broken spring. There was shopping to do—his mother and slsteP both said so, tragically. Out came the limousine and with Jimmie, feeling like a taxicab driver, at the wheel, they sped off downtown bright and early in the morning. Jimmie was lolling on the cushions opposite a famous hat shop which Is near the Union station. He amused himself by watching the route of motors and people up and down the busy street He also kept a patronizing eye on the suburban trains that shuttled back and forth behind the Iron fence. And he nodded commendation when the Cusmopolitan limited breezed majestically Into the great station. The Cosmopolitan, with ponderous exhausts, was on its way again when a whirlwind of dainty skirts projected itself across the stone threshold of ' the station and headed for Jimmie. He straightened to attention when a pretty, pleading face was upturned to him. “I must catch that train," said the girl, hurriedly. "My aunt’s on it, with my ticket. I stepped off to get a book at the station. Doesn’t It stop again? I’ll pay you double —’’ “Jump in here, beside me,’’ commanded Jimmie. His mother and sister were forgotten as the car hitched around In the crowded thoroughfare and began 'to hum up Division street. Jimmie remembered that the big train always stopped at a junction quite across the city. There was no time to explain to his passenger that he was* not running a taxi, even if he wanted to do so. Such an explanation was far from his desires. For the passenger was the most charming girl he had seen In many a day. She was bareheaded and the air ruffled her bright, crinky hair as It streamed past. The book she had left the train to buy was clasped in both hands. Excitement and rapid motion had whipped a wildrose tint Into her cheeks. Jimmie could not decide from his hurried glances whether her eyes were blue or gray; but he knew they were large and eloquently expressive. She leaned towards him. “There’s another station, Isn’t there? Will we reach It In time?” “I don’t know,” returned Jimmie, "whether we can make It or not” He pressed down his foot hard, for there was an open space In the street there. A motorcycle policeman,, chugging toward them slowly, raised a warning hand. Jimmie smiled, and pressed down again. The officer circled smartly and started in pursuit. The limousine did nobly. It attained a speed of which Jimmie did not believe it capable. He kept the horn going constantly. Horse-drawn vehicles turned into side streets, while other motors made way, hastily. Pedestrians crossing the street sought the walk with surprising agility. It was the horn which nearly caused Jimmie’s undoing. Another motorcycle officer looked back over his shoulder when he heard it. He saw the lunging car, and behind it the wildly-wav-ing white-gloved hand of his pursuing <• colleague. He stopped, dismounted, and threw his machine across the pavement He had chosen his stand well. To the left were the car tracks, and a line of approaching cars. To the right was the curb. The motorcycle, broadside on, seemed to block the path effectually. Jimmie’s foot almost gave over Its pressure. Then his eyes gleamed and his jaws snapped. "Hang on!” he commanded tersely. The girl dropped the book in her lap without question and gripped convenient projections. Jimmie sounded the horn Insistently. The policeman refused to budge. He still kept the commanding arm rigidly in the air. Ten yards from the officer Jimmie swerved to the right. The big car rose for a moment on two wheels. Then It hit the curb drunkenly, spurned the walk for a few feet and dropped back into the roadway with a crashing of glass. The rear hub brushed the motorcycle tire as the car shot past The second outraged motorcyclist joined the first In pursuit There were other incidents, more or less exciting, of that mad dash. Jimmie never slackened speed, for the stooping motorcycle policemen were skimming doggedly along behind. But the limited, with no obstructions in the way, had gone even faster. As they swooped down toward the junction the train moved slowly away; The girl gave a* despairing little moan. "Oh, we’ve missed it!” she cried. "Not yet,” encouraged Jimmy. For in a flash of inspiration he felt that there was one more chance. Ahead a few blocks the railroad tracks encroached on the street, occupying the left side of it for some distance. There was no fence or other obstruction between the pavement

and the rails. They ran along parallel. And the rear vestibule of the train was open. Jimmie’s foot went down gently. The Hmoustne drew ahead of the train and gained the point where the railroad and street joined. With a thankful heart he noticed that the limited had not yet attained more than a fair momentum. Carefulfy he eased off. As the pilot of the engine crept up beside him he shouted to the girl: “The last vestibule’s open. Dare you step from the car to the train? I’ll keep close.” "Yes!” she answered in his ear. Car after car of the limited slid past. At last came the observation car, the rear vestibule still open. He edged over until the running board and the car step were a scant two Inches apart. The speed of train and motor were identical. “Now!” he shouted. She rose composedly, tossed her book into the vestibule, caught the brass handles of the car'and stepped across. It was almost absurdly eagy, tor Jimmie’s handling of the car was masterly. In two seconds she was safe aboard. As the scandalized face of the porter appeared in the rear door of the Pullman Jimmie’s passenger smiled on him radiantly. She screamed above the roar of the train: “We’ll —be —back —In—two— weeks. Watch —sor —us!" Mrs. Cordelia Malnwarlng raised a formidable lorgnette. “So this is the young man who ran his cab over a policeman and chased people up lampposts, is it?” she said, quizzically. “You seem to be an exponent of the modern creed of 'get there,’ sir.” “Yes, ma’am,” said the blushing Jimmy. Mrs. Malnwarlng continued her scrutiny. “You said he was handsome, Dorothy. I believe you were right, my dear.” “Auntie!” said the girl, blushing, too. “What is your name, young man?” asked Mrs. Malnwaring. “James Bennett.” The dowager lowered her lorgnette in surprise. “Not a son of the greatJames Bennett?” “I believe that's what they call him,” smiled Jimmie. “Well!” said Mrs. Malnwarlng. “Well! I flirted desperately with him thirty years ago. And your mother was my best friend until we went west. Is she in town?" **Yes,” said the eager Jimmie, “and I'd like to have you go up there. You must be Mrs. Malnwarlng. I’ve heard her speak of you often.” “We are going,” returned the dowager, with instant decision. “I intended stopping off merely to thank you, but I must see your people, now I’m here, James. But you surely don’t drive a taxi?” Jimmie shook his head. »"It was the limousine. Mother and my sister wanted to come downtown, and the other cars were in use' or broken.” “This is your car?” said Mrs. Mainwaring, when they were outside the station. “Dorothy, my dear, sit up there with Mr. Bennett. I like plenty of room.” ' When, as they sped decorously through the streets, she noticed the way Jimmie leaned toward her niece; how his voice took on a tone confidential, almost caressing, as he spoke to her; how Dorothy glanced up responsively, stealing longer looks at the bronzed, wholesome face when he was busy with the car —when she noticed all these things, the dowager nodded her crown of -white hair, well pleased. For Mrs. Malnwarlng was an Incorrigible matchmaker.