PATTY’S INGENUITY
Philip turned the car around, and, in a few moments, they were swiftly
speeding toward home.
“It’s awfully good of you,” he said, “to give me this little bit of your
time all to myself.”
“I don’t think I gave it,” observed Patty, smiling; “I think you took it
when I wasn’t looking.”
“Yes, and when no one else was looking, or I mightn’t have succeeded so
well. But it’s been a gorgeous ride, and now I’m going to take you right
back to home and mother. Do you suppose those people who went to see the
ocean are still looking at it? If so, it will be fun to drive right down
to them.”
“Oh, don’t try it! Camilla cuts up dreadfully if she gets stuck in the
sand. It’s the one thing she won’t stand!”
“All right, we’ll go right, straight, bang home, then. Whew! We have
come farther than I thought! We can’t see the lights of Spring Beach
yet.”
“No; but I know where we are. It’s about three miles to Spring Beach.
Put on a good speed, and we’ll soon do it. There’s not a thing in the
road, and I’ll trust your fast driving.”
“All right, my lady; here goes!” Van Reypen flung in the highest speed
and they fairly flew. And then, quite suddenly and without any jar or
jolt, or warning of any kind, they found themselves sitting quite still.
Camilla had stopped of her own accord, and seemed absolutely disinclined
to proceed. There was no noise and no fuss, the car simply stood
motionless.
“What did you stop for?” asked Patty, turning an enquiring face toward
Van Reypen.
“I didn’t stop; she stopped herself. Your friend Camilla is not in such
haste to get home as you are, and she wants to see the moonlight on the
sea once again.”
“Nonsense! Didn’t you truly stop the car?”
“No, truly I didn’t, and, what’s more, I can’t make it go on.”
“Then something has happened!”
“Right-o! How clever of you to guess that! But it’s your car, and you
know its tricks and its manners. What does it mean when she stops like
this, gently but firmly?”
“I don’t know;” and Patty looked blankly bewildered. “She’s never done
such a thing before. Of course something must be out of order,—but I
can’t think what. The tires are all right.”
“Yes, of course; it isn’t a puncture. But I can’t think myself what it
can be. Well, I’ll have to overhaul the engine and see what I can see.”
Van Reypen got out and began to investigate, but he could find nothing
wrong in any part. “Has the charge given out?” he asked.
“No, the batteries are all right. It was fully charged this morning, and
I used it very little to-day. She’s good for eighty or ninety miles
easily, and I haven’t run twenty to-day.”
“Then, I give it up. I do know something about cars, but I’m much more
experienced with the gasoline motors. However, this is so beautifully
made, and yet so really simple of construction, that I feel I ought to
understand it. You get out, and take a look.”
Philip held the lamp while Patty peered anxiously into the motor.
She didn’t understand fully all the complicated parts, but she had a
fair working knowledge of its main principles, and she, too, was unable
to discover anything wrong or out of order.
“We’re in a lovely mess,” she observed, cheerfully, as she stood looking
at Philip.
“Yes, we’re up against it,” he rejoined, but his tone was as cheerful as
her own, and they both laughed as they looked at each other. For, given
a moonlight night, and two merry young people, it is not difficult to
look on the bright side of a motor misfortune.
“Now,” said Patty, philosophically, “what do we do next?”
“I’m not very familiar with this locality, but, if there were any chance
of a big car coming along, we’d ask them to tow us. The running gear of
this car is all right.”
“Yes, and so is the steering gear. And the batteries seem to be in
perfect order. I can’t imagine what’s the matter. However, I can inform
you there’s precious little chance of any car coming along this way now.
Seashore people always go to bed early, and they never ride at night,
anyhow. No, we’ll have to walk home.”
“And leave the car here?”
“Yes; I hate to do it. But nobody can steal her, for she won’t go.”
“But somebody might steal her and tow her away. That is, if a car
_should_ come along, and we weren’t here.”
“Oh, I can’t bear to think of that! I don’t want to lose my beautiful
car! What can we do?”
“I don’t see anything to do but to sit here in the car all night, and of
course we can’t do that. Nor can one of us go and one stay, for I
wouldn’t let you go alone, and I’m sure I wouldn’t let you stay here
alone.”
“I think I’ll go,” said Patty, slowly. “You stay with the car, and I’ll
walk home alone. It’s only three miles, and I’m sure it’s perfectly
safe; there’s no one abroad at this time of night.”
“Patty, I can’t let you do it;” and Philip Van Reypen looked deeply
troubled. “I can’t let you walk those three miles, alone, late at
night.”
“But you don’t want to go and leave me here, sitting alone in a
broken-down motor car?”
“No; I can’t do that, either.”
“And we can’t both go,—and we can’t both stay! So it’s a dead—what do
you call those things?”
“A deadlock?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. If neither of us can go, and neither of us can
stay, and we can’t both go, and we can’t both stay, isn’t that a pretty
good imitation of a deadlock?”
“It certainly is! Now, in those lovely motor car novels that people
write, somebody would come along just in the nick of time, and fix
everything all right, and we’d all live happy ever after.”
“Yes; but we’re not in a novel, and I’m positive nobody will come along
so late. What time is it?”
“A little after eleven,” said Philip, looking at his watch. “Patty, I
can’t tell you how sorry I am that I got you into this scrape, and I
must figure some way to get you out! But it hasn’t come to me yet.”
Philip’s face was a picture of despair. He suddenly realised his
responsibility in bringing Patty out here at night. It was done on a
sudden impulse, a mere frolicsome whim, and, if the car hadn’t broken
down, all would have been well.
“Don’t take it too seriously, Philip,” said Patty, in a pleading voice,
for, now that she saw how he felt, she was sorry for him. “We’ll get out
of this somehow! But, truly, I think the only way is for me to walk home
and send father’s big car back for you and Camilla. I sha’n’t mind the
walk half as much as I should mind sitting here, and waiting while you
go.”
“But, Patty, you can’t walk three miles in those little, high-heeled
slippers.”
Patty looked down at her little evening shoes, with their French heels.
They were not suitable for a three-mile walk, but that was a secondary
consideration. “I _must_ go,” she said; “there is no other way.”
“Then I’m going with you,” declared Philip, stoutly. “And, if anybody
steals that car, I’ll give you another one exactly like it! I’ll have it
built to order, with the same specifications! This whole affair is my
fault, and I’m going to get you out of it the best way I can.”
“It isn’t your fault! I won’t have you say so, just because that stupid
old car chose the worst possible moment to break down! But, all the
same, I don’t know how I can walk three miles in these high-heeled
slippers with you any better than I could without you.”
Philip grinned. “When you get tired, I’ll carry you,” he declared. “I
tell you I’m going to get you out of this scrape, if it takes all
summer!”
“Well, it will, unless we start pretty soon. Come on, then.”
“Wait a minute. Suppose I take those heels off your shoes. Couldn’t you
walk better then?”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! I’m accustomed to high heels. I can walk in them all
right.”
“Yes; and, first thing you know, they’ll throw you, and you’ll twist
your foot, and sprain your ankle——”
“Well, then you _will_ have to carry me,” said Patty, laughing. “But,
before we start, do let’s try once more to make the car go. Maybe it’s
nothing but perverseness.”
But their efforts were unavailing, and Camilla stood stock-still in the
middle of the road, as if she never intended to move again.
“It would be like the One-Hoss-Shay,” said Patty, “only in that, you
know, every part dropped to pieces; and here nothing’s the matter with
any part.”
“But there _must_ be something the matter,” declared Philip, who was
once again examining the batteries; “and, by jingo, Patty,—I’ve found
it!”
“You have! What is it?”
“Why, the battery strap has separated, that’s all!”
“What is the battery strap? I don’t see any strap.”
“Oh, it isn’t a leather strap; it’s this band of lead that goes around
the battery, but they call it a strap. See this crack across it?”
“Oh, that little crack! Does that do any harm?”
“Why, yes, of course; it completely stops the current. You see, the two
ends of the strap almost touch; if they did touch, we’d be all right.
Now, if I had a little piece of lead to connect those two parts where
they are separated, I could fix it in a jiffy! Got any lead?”
“I don’t know. Look in the tool-box.”
“Just a little piece of lead wire, or anything that’s lead.”
“Try a lead pencil,” said Patty, but Philip was poking in the tool-box
and paid little attention to her mild joke.
“There isn’t a lead thing here!” he exclaimed. “Your tool-box is too
everlastingly cleared up! Every tool in a little pocket by itself! Why
don’t you have a whole lot of old rubbishy junk; then we might find
something for an emergency?”
“Can’t you find anything that will do?”
“Not a thing! To think that, now we’ve found out what the trouble is, we
can’t mend it! and such an easy break to mend, if I just had a scrap of
lead. Well, we may as well make up our minds to walk.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Patty; “I didn’t mind walking so much when I thought
the car had really broken down. But just that little bit of a crevice in
the battery strap! Oh, can’t we mend it, somehow? Can’t you pull the
strap out longer or something?”
“No, angel child, there’s nothing doing without some lead. After this,
always bring some lead in your pocket.”
“But I haven’t any pocket.”
“Ah, that explains the absence of the lead! If you had had a pocket, of
course you would have brought some lead. You’re excused.”
“Well, next time I’ll bring lead with me, you may be sure of that.”
“I hope you will, fair lady, and may I be here to use it! Now, shall we
start for our moonlight stroll?”
“Wait a minute; I have a idea!”
“Something tells me your idea is a good one!”
“I don’t know whether it is or not. I’m afraid it isn’t. And I’m afraid
to tell you what it is, for fear you’ll laugh at me.”
“I laugh? I, a man in charge of a broken-down motor, and a fair young
girl with French heels, and midnight drawing nearer and nearer! _I_
laugh! Nay, nay, I’m in no laughing mood!”
“Well, if you’ll promise not to laugh, I’ll tell you,—or, rather, I’ll
show you.”
From a little utility case, which was tucked away under the seat of the
motor, Patty drew out a good-sized package of sweet chocolate. “I always
carry chocolate with me,” she said, “because it tastes so good when it’s
dusty.”
“When the chocolate’s dusty?”
“No, of course not; when the road’s dusty, and your throat’s
dusty,—chocolate’s awful good then.”
As she talked, Patty had torn off the outer wrapper, and showed the
chocolate neatly wrapped in tinfoil. She took this off carefully, and,
tossing the chocolate aside, folded the tinfoil into a long strip, while
Philip gazed at her with dawning admiration in his eyes.
“There’s your lead,” she said, simply, as she handed him the strip.
“Patty, you’re a genius!” he exclaimed; “a perfect genius! How did you
_ever_ think of that?”
“Will it do?”
“Do? Of course it will do! It’s just the very thing. I’ll wrap it around
that separated battery strap, and we’ll be off in two minutes!”
In really less than two minutes, Van Reypen had wound the strip of
tinfoil in its place, had jumped into the car beside Patty, who was
already in, and they were flying along at top speed.
“How _did_ you think of it?” he asked again, as they skimmed along. “It
was terribly clever of you!”
“Why, I knew you wanted lead, and I knew tinfoil was lead. I was stupid
not to think of it sooner.”
“You’re a marvel to think of it at all! It was wonderful!”
“Oh, not at all; that’s nothing to what I can do when I really try! Have
some chocolate?”
Patty was in gay spirits now, for they were flying homeward through the
moonlight, and she was spared the three-mile walk and her beloved car
was safe in her own possession.
“Yes, I will have some chocolate, thank you. We may as well take all the
goods the gods provide, while we can. I’m glad to get you home safely,
but I can’t honestly say that I haven’t enjoyed this whole escapade. Can
you?”
“No,” said Patty, looking at him with a demure smile, “not _honestly_, I
can’t. But, all the same, I’m glad we could manage to ride home instead
of walk.”
“Yes, so am I; and it’s astonishing how hungry I am! Can you spare a
little more of that chocolate?”
“Yes, indeed;” and Patty broke off a generous bit; “but we’ll give you
some supper at ‘The Pebbles.’ I fancy they’ll be rather glad to see us!”
“Yes,” said Philip, grinning; “and I rather fancy we’ll get a warm
reception,—and I’m not sure but we deserve it!”