As Trenton had not been reached the preceding Saturday, I determined to
try again and to take Sally with me. Sally said she would be delighted
to go. Next morning at about eight we were ready for the trip. It was a
beautiful morning and Sally was as sparklingly pretty as a morning
daisy. It was a pleasure to look at her. She had a parcel done up in
paper which I stored in the tonneau. When I turned the crank nothing
happened. I turned the crank again—still nothing happened. At the third
turn there were two explosions and then silence. Fourth turn, ditto.
Fifth turn, the engine ran for some time and just as we were ready to
move stopped again. By this time my patience had a very thin edge, but,
fortunately, the next turn gave the desired result and we were off.
My car had a serious defect: the radiator was too small and the water
grew hot and boiled about every three miles. If there was much climbing
the distance traveled before this happened was less. In consequence it
was necessary to let the boiling water escape and provide a fresh
charge, which required frequent running to the pump with a collapsible
bucket.
About three miles from our starting place we reached a roadside spring
and I replaced the water and plied the oil can. Not many yards below the
spring we overtook a young lady walking in the direction we were going.
It was Miss Horner on her way to the village just below. We stopped and
asked her to ride with us. She was on her way to her school for some
books which had been forgotten. On reaching the school we were invited
to inspect it. It was an old-fashioned place, painted yellow outside,
with a large coal stove at one side and blackboards surrounding the room
on all the available wall space. There was a bench before the teacher’s
desk on which the lazy or naughty pupils stood during the noon or recess
periods.
After we left her Sally was very inquisitive. She wanted to know who she
was, where she came from, how and where I had met her. Satisfied on
these points we proceeded happily on our way. Presently the car began to
steam and I to look for a watering place. The canal was close to the
road, and after considerable searching I found a place where it was
possible to reach the water with my bucket. I succeeded in doing so
after some stretching but in lifting the bucket the weight of the water
overbalanced me and down into the water I slid.
Sally cried out in alarm but wasted no time in thrusting a stick from
the roadside into my hands. Then I was slowly and carefully pulled in
and helped up the bank. I was in a pretty pickle. Wet from head to foot;
my collar and shirt in collapse; my shoes filled with water, and my hat
gone. I told Sally it did not matter. It was warm and I would soon dry
off. As for my hat and collar I could replace them at the next country
store. She said I was very brave and she was proud of me; and as she
said this her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were full of rosy color. I
had been very much surprised at her prompt, vigorous action in helping
me and also at the strength she displayed. With her permission I removed
my coat and shoes and laid them to dry in the tonneau. Then with a
considerable increase in cordiality we once more took the road. At
frequent intervals we were obliged to water the car and might fairly be
said to have worked our passage. At Lehnenburg or Monroe we entered the
red shale country which extends to Trenton and below. In many places
this shale is covered with river sand or is replaced by sandstone rock
belonging to the same formation but less strongly colored with iron
oxide. Over roads varying in character but mostly bad we proceeded. From
Erwinna to Point Pleasant the road was especially bad, being both rocky
and muddy. By careful driving I managed to avoid splashing the car very
badly. At New Hope we crossed the river and proceeded toward Trenton. It
was now time for lunch and we drew up by the roadside under a maple and
Sally produced her package which contained a lunch fit for kings. This
we discussed amid a cheerful rain of jokes and chaff.
After lunch we proceeded and soon entered State Street and turned down
South Broad. There were few cars in those days and no traffic policemen
so that we could turn the car on South Broad and draw up before the
bookstore.
I was a great admirer of Stockton and Stevenson and so I found was
Sally. In the stock of second hand books by these authors we found
copies of “The Lady and the Tiger,” “The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and
Mrs. Aleshine,” “The Christmas Wreck” and “Amos Kilbright” by Stockton
and “The Black Arrow,” “Kidnapped” and “The Strange Case of Mr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde” by Stephenson. These we considered a great find and the
price was very reasonable. They were stowed in the tonneau and Sally
took her seat while I turned the crank. This time we started off without
trouble.
We had got as far as Lambertville on the return when trouble with the
car began to develop. The engine would run properly for awhile and then
it would slow down and almost stop, then it would start running properly
again. This continued until we were several miles above New Hope. Here
the engine gave out completely. After trying in vain to start it again I
abandoned hope and Sally and I pushed the car to the roadside and
started off for help. We walked nearly a mile before we came to a house.
I knocked at the door which was opened by a nice-looking boy of about
ten years. In answer to my enquiry he said his Pop was at the barn and
if we would sit down he would go after him. Presently the boy’s mother
came in and we told her the car had broken down. She thought we had
better spend the night there and go on in the morning. She had a spare
room which we might use. I thought further explanations were in order
and the old lady said if I would be content with a cot the young lady
might have the spare room and I could sleep in the attic. I thanked her
and, after consulting Sally, accepted. When the farmer came in we found
nothing else could be done. He promised to drive me to New Hope in the
morning and get a mechanic. I lay awake for a long time wondering what
could be the matter. Finally it occurred to me that the gasoline might
have given out. The next morning we had an early breakfast and the
farmer and I drove to the car. Sure enough we found the tank as dry as a
bone. Then we went on to New Hope and after some searching found
gasoline and partly filled the tank. After turning the engine over
several times it caught and we drove up to the house. Sally seemed to be
worried but she said very little. On the way home she said she was
afraid her mother might worry and wished there were some way to get word
to her. I suggested that we telegraph but we found all the offices
closed.
About 11 o’clock we reached home. I went in with Sally. Her mother
seemed worried. She said she had been very much distressed by our
non-arrival the night before and looked at me searchingly. I told her I
had been very stupid but she must remember I had run a car only a short
time and was not very experienced. Sally said she was sure I was not to
blame.
The next day I needed some money and went to the bank. Jim Barkley
waited on me and after he had cashed the check said:
“I hear you were stalled the other day because you had no gasoline?
Pretty slick excuse.”
“No,” I said, “do you think so?”
“Ho, ho,” he said, “ho, ho!”
“He, he,” I said, “he, he!”
He looked pretty black at this but said nothing more.
I went to call on Sally that evening and she greeted me with smiles. She
wanted to know whether I had caught cold? I said no, I had not. She told
me she thought Jim Barkley was very disagreeable. He had been making
nasty remarks about me. He had told Hetty Poiret that I was a prig. She
thought he was very ugly-tempered and very stupid. Before I left she
asked me whether I often took cold. I said I did. She advised me if I
felt I was taking cold to soak my feet in hot water in a wooden bucket,
the water should be very hot and contain a teaspoonful of soda. Then I
must wipe my feet with a dry, hot towel and get into bed. She did not
say retire, she said get into bed. I had not had such advice since my
mother died two years before. She looked very earnest and very much
concerned as she said it. It was not a romantic speech but somehow I
liked to have her say it.