"For instance?" queried one of the girls.
"I'll tell you. I don't mind the young generation smelling of gasoline
the way it does--"
Cries and protests drowned Dick out for a moment.
"I know I smell of it myself," he went on. "But you've all failed to
learn the good old modes of locomotion. There isn't a girl of you that
Paula can't walk into the ground. There isn't a fellow of you that
Graham and I can't walk into a receiving hospital.--Oh, I know you can
all crank engines and shift gears to the queen's taste. But there
isn't one of you that can properly ride a horse--a real horse, in the
only way, I mean. As for driving a smart pair of roadsters, it's a
screech. And how many of you husky lads, hell-scooting on the bay in
your speed-boats, can take the wheel of an old-time sloop or schooner,
without an auxiliary, and get out of your own way in her?"
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