Frank strove to conceal his impatience.

“It was a roadster I was asking about. A yellow roadster.”

“Not one of them there coops, hey?” asked the oldest man in the group doubtfully.

“No, not a coupé. A roadster.”

“Roadster, eh?” remarked the old farmer. “That’s one of them there autymobiles with just two seats and a little cupboard in the back, eh?”

“My cousin has one,” observed another member of the group. “He got it secondhand in Bayport. I never could see why he bought the doggone thing, for you can’t take the folks out for a ride in it without havin’ ’em all crowded somethin’ fearful. Give me the old tourin’ car every time.”