s cranking again and he didn't want to
desert his post. This time their combined efforts were crowned with
success. The car awoke to a steady, frantic chugging. The youth mopped
his forehead again.

"Want a ride?" he asked. "I'm going by the school."

"Not our school," said Amy. "We're from Brimfield."

"Well, I'll put you down in Wharton before the trolley gets there.
That's where I'm going. Jump in."

Amy looked eagerly at Clint. "Want to?" he asked.

"Got to," replied Clint gloomily. "There goes the car, you silly chump!"

"All right," said Amy. "We don't have to get there until five-twenty,
anyway. Come on, Clint."

They climbed into the back of the car and threw themselves luxuriously
against the cushions.

"Home, James," commanded Amy.

The driver turned and grinned. He was a not-over-clean youth, and his
hair was badly in need of a barber's attentions, but he was evidently
good-natured. The car, which was an old one and had undoubtedly seen
much better days, swung around and headed back toward Thacher School and
the football field. The youth talked to them over his shoulder.

"She's hard to start," he said, "when she's been standing, but she can
go all right. You wait till we're out of town and I'll show you. I got
to go over to Wharton to get Mr. Cumnock."

"Who's he?" asked Amy disinterestedly.

"He runs the Commercial House. He comes out from New York on the
express and I go over and get him."

"Oh, is this his car?"

"No, it belongs to Sterry, the liveryman. I drive for him. It's been a
good car in its day, but it's pretty old now. Runs pretty well, though,
when it's in shape."

"I hope," said Clint, "it's in shape today."

"Sure. I was two hours fixing it this morning. Now I'll show you if she
can go."

He did and she could! They passed the school and the football field at a
thirty-mile clip and, a little further out of town, hit it up still
faster. Clint and Amy bumped around in the tonneau like two dried peas
in a pod. The engine was by no means noiseless and from somewhere under
their feet there came a protesting grind that nearly drowned their
efforts at conversation. Not that that mattered, though, for they were
going too fast to talk, anyway. At first they were a bit uneasy, but
presently when they found that the car did not jump into a ditch or
vault a fence, they got over their nervousness and thoroughly enjoyed
the well-nigh breathless sensation. The driver lolled back on his s