Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/119

 all three of them. I would pick this one last. Whew! I'm out of breath. Have you been waiting long?"

"No," Gaylord grinned. "I just got here. I should have made myself clearer. No wonder you didn't know which door I meant with all of them around here." He was glad he had waited. "My car's over there."

It was a lie, but he knew that in this small matter it was better than the truth. Morally his conscience did not rebel at this white falsehood, since it was really his fault. In any event, he would not tell Glenn Rogers he had almost given up and gone on without him. It was all his fault; but he felt no personal guilt at all. The delay was a lucky stroke. He had seen Blake and Joy and Blake was put in still a better light. He was happy as they walked toward his car.

When they came up to his car, Rogers said, "Boy, is this your car?"

"Uh-huh. Like it?"

Rogers squinted his eyes. "Like it? It's keen … what kind is it? Buick, isn't it?"

Gaylord nodded and both grinned at each other. They got in and sat on the leather seat.

"Dad has a Chevy. It's old now but still runs good. Boy, this is really a keen car … does the top go down by itself?"

"Sure does." Gaylord explained about the cloth top and how it worked. Then he pressed on the starter. He said, "Dad gave it to me on my birthday."

"When was your birthday?"

"March twentieth."

"That's funny," giggled Rogers, "mine's the twentieth of June. How old are you, Gay?"

"Eighteen … that is, I'll be eighteen …" He grinned. "How old are you?"

"The same. But I didn't get a car … come to think of it, I don't think my Dad gave me a darn thing." He laughed and wiped the dust from the chrome dashboard with his hand. "Your dad must be swell."

"He is."

"What does he do? Own a bank?" 109