The Whirlwind easily towed the weight of the disabled runabout, and
the autoists were soon approaching town.
"Let me out at the post-office, please," begged Mary of Cora, as
they rolled through the village streets. "I had better not let madam
see me out riding."
"Why, she gave you permission, didn't she?" asked Cora in surprise.
"But I would rather get out here," insisted Mary, not answering the
question directly.
"If you'll cast me loose, I'll run my machine in this shop,"
suddenly called Sid, as they passed a rather tumble-down shack on a
side street.
"But you're not going to let old Smith tinker with it, are you?"
asked Walter.
"Oh, I don't know what I'll do with it!" snapped Sid. "May as well
leave it here as anywhere else."
Smith's place was a second-rate blacksmith shop, while at Chelton
Center, a little farther on, there was a fine garage--Newton's--the
one at which Cora and the twins had met the handsome machinist.
"Why don't you take it to Newton's?" asked Cora. "We'll go there
with you. I--er--, I know the machinist there."
"I prefer to leave it here," said Sid shortly. "Stop, please, and
I'll loosen the rope."
"Oh!" exclaimed Cora shortly. She could not understand Sid.
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