was not much
chance of her going out in the fog--and now that he listened, he heard
the drip of rain. No, there was not much chance. Foster had not seemed
to think there was any chance of the car being in use, and Foster ought
to know. He would wait until about ten-thirty, to play safe, and then
go.

Rain spelled skid chains to Bud. He looked in the tool box, found a set,
and put them on. Then, because he was not going to take any chances, he
put another set, that he found hanging up, on the front wheels. After
that he turned out the light, took down the robe and wrapped himself in
it, and laid himself down on the rear seat to wait for ten-thirty.

He dozed, and the next he knew there was a fumbling at the door in
front, and the muttering of a voice. Bud slid noiselessly out of the
car and under it, head to the rear where he could crawl out quickly. The
voice sounded like a man, and presently the door opened and Bud was sure
of it. He caught a querulous sentence or two.

"Door left unlocked--the ignorant hound--Good thing I don't trust
him too far--" Some one came fumbling in and switched on the light.
"Careless hound--told him to be careful--never even put the robe on the
rail where it belongs--and then they howl about the way they're treated!
Want more wages--don't earn what they do get--"

Bud, twisting his head, saw a pair of slippered feet beside the running
board. The owner of the slippers was folding the robe and laying it over
the rail, and grumbling to himself all the while. "Have to come out in
the rain--daren't trust him an inch--just like him to go off and leave
the door unlocked--" With a last grunt or two the mumbling ceased. The
light was switched off, and Bud heard the doors pulled shut, and the
rattle of the padlock and chain. He waited another minute and crawled
out.

"Might have told me there was a father-in-law in the outfit," he
grumbled to himself. "Big a butt-in as Marie's mother, at that. Huh.
Never saw my suit case, never noticed the different numbers, never got
next to the chains--huh! Regular old he-hen, and I sure don't blame
Foster for wanting to tie a can to the bunch."

Very cautiously he turned his flashlight on the face of the automobile
clock. The hour hand stood a little past ten, and Bud decided he had
better go. He would have to fill the gas tank, and get more oil, and he
wanted to test the air in his tires. No stops after they started, said
Foster; Bud had set his heart on s