Benton's Venture

“Want to buy an automobile, son?”

Tom Benton smiled and shook his head.

“All right,” pursued the man good-naturedly. “I saw you looking at it, and I didn’t know but you might be wanting a good car. She’s a bargain.”

“Sort of—worn out, isn’t it?” asked Tom, moving around to a new point of view.

“N-no, there’s life in her yet, I guess. ’Course she needs overhauling, as you might say, and some paint. But she’s got four whole cylinders, a good set of gears an’—an’ some other things. No, she ain’t as bad as she looks. If you hear of anyone looking for a bargain in a five-seat, twenty-two-horsepower automobile, you tell ’em to come and see me, son.”

“What do you want for her?” asked Tom.

The carriage dealer looked at him shrewdly, kicked one worn and tattered tire as if to satisfy himself that it wouldn’t come to pieces, and replied: “A hundred and fifty dollars takes her just as she stands, with top, side curtains, top cover an’—an’ I think there’s a jack under the hind seat.”

“I dare say that’s reasonable,” replied Tom doubtfully, “but I guess it would take a lot to put that car in running shape, wouldn’t it?”

The dealer shrugged his shoulders. “I reckon fifty dollars would make a new car out of her, son. A coat of paint would make a whole pile of difference in her looks, anyway, and I’d paint her and varnish her for—let me see now; well, for thirty dollars. And that’s twenty dollars cheaper than anyone else would do it for. Better think it over.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t buy her,” laughed Tom. “I haven’t got that much money.”

“Well, I didn’t suppose you had, but maybe your father would buy it for you. Ain’t you John Benton’s son? Ain’t Postmaster Benton your daddy?”

“Yes, sir, but I guess he isn’t buying automobiles just now. If I hear of anyone wanting one, though, I’ll tell them about this one. Want me to help you run it inside?”

“Yes, you might take a wheel over there. Wait till I put the brake off. Now, then! Heave-o! That’s the ticket. Easy! Look out for them hubs on that surrey. All right. Much obliged to you. Tell you what I’ll do, son; if you send a buyer for her, I’ll make you a present of ten dollars. That’s fair, eh? You tell folks she’s a bargain. She is, too. I reckon I could get three hundred for her in the city. I took her in trade from a man over to Graywich. Why, that car cost thirteen hundred dollars when she was new!”

“I guess that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?” hazarded Tom.

“Humph! About three years, if the man told the truth. That ain’t old, though, for an automobile. I was reading the other day about an automobile that had been run twelve years and was as good as new!”

“Will this one run now?” Tom asked.

“She might if she had some gasoline in her. Mind, I ain’t saying she would, for I ain’t tried her. I wouldn’t know how. I never ran one of the things in my life. But the man I took her from says she’ll run, an’ I’ll take his word for it till I find out different. Anyway, she’s all there; there ain’t no parts missing. You can tell ’em that, son.”