So they went to the
nearest restaurant and had smothered beefsteak and mashed potato and
coffee and pie, and while they ate they talked of gears and carburetors
and transmission and ignition troubles, all of which alleviated
temporarily Bud's case of cabin fever and caused him to forget that he
was married and had quarreled with his wife and had heard a good many
unkind things which his mother-in-law had said about him.

By the time they were back in the garage and had the grease cleaned out
of the rear gears so that they could see whether they were really burred
or broken, as Bud had suspected, the twinkle was back in his eyes, and
the smiley quirk stayed at the corners of his mouth, and when he was not
talking mechanics with Bill he was whistling. He found much lost motion
and four broken teeth, and he was grease to his eyebrows--in other
words, he was happy.

When he and Bill finally shed their borrowed overalls and caps, the
garage lights were on, and the lot behind the shop was dusky. Bud sat
down on the running board and began to figure what the actual cost
of the bargain would be when Bill had put it into good mechanical
condition. New bearings, new bevel gear, new brake, lining, rebored
cylinders--they totalled a sum that made Bill gasp.

By the time Bud had proved each item an absolute necessity, and had
reached the final ejaculation: "Aw, forget it, Bill, and buy yuh a
Ford!" it was so late that he knew Marie must have given up looking
for him home to supper. She would have taken it for granted that he had
eaten down town. So, not to disappoint her, Bud did eat down town. Then
Bill wanted him to go to a movie, and after a praiseworthy hesitation
Bud yielded to temptation and went. No use going home now, just when
Marie would be rocking the kid to sleep and wouldn't let him speak above
a whisper, he told his conscience. Might as well wait till they settled
down for the night.

CHAPTER TWO. TWO MAKE A QUARREL

At nine o'clock Bud went home. He was feeling very well satisfied with
himself for some reason which he did not try to analyze, but which
was undoubtedly his sense of having saved Bill from throwing away six
hundred dollars on a bum car; and the weight in his coat pocket of a
box of chocolates that he had bought for Marie. Poor girl, it was kinda
tough on her, all right, being tied to the house now with the kid. Next
spring when he started his run to Big Basin again, he would get a little
camp i