ar, "well, as I was sayin', Henery went to England, and he got a car. Do you know wot he got?"
"No, I don't."
"'E got a ninety," said Alfred slowly, giving time for the words to soak in.
"A ninety! What do you mean?"
"'E got a ninety -- a ninety-horse-power racin' engine wot was made for some American millionaire and wasn't as fast as wot some other millionaire had, so he sold it for the price of the iron, and Henery got it, and had a body built for it, and he comes out here and tells us all it's a twenty mongrel -- you know, one of them cars that's made part in one place and part in another, the body here and the engine there, and the radiator another place. There's lots of cheap cars made like that.
"So Henery he says that this is a twenty mongrel -- only a four-cylinder engine; and nobody drops to what she is till Henery goes out one Sunday and waits for the big Napier that Scotty used to drive -- it belonged to the same bloke wot owned that big racehorse wot won all the