Adventure stories; Automobiles -- Juvenile fiction; New York (State) -- Fiction; Teenage boys -- Fiction
“Depends. Maybe two weeks. Maybe three. I’d have to send to the
factory for the new parts, you see. Better say three weeks, I guess.”
“And you think that when you got through with it――her――she would be all
right, Mr. Brennan?”
“I think she’d run smooth. That’s all I’d guarantee. She’s an old car;
must be six years old, I suppose; and she isn’t as nifty as the ones
they make now. But she’s built strong, all right. She’s got a good
engine. What was you wanting her for principally?”
“Just――just to run around town in,” answered Willard. They hadn’t
confided to Jimmy the real purpose to which they intended putting the
car.
“Oh, she’d last twenty years, likely, around town. ’Course if you was
thinkin’ of doing much tourin’ with her, why, that’s different. She
wouldn’t stand it long. But just around here on good roads, why, she’d
last a good while, boys.”
“Then――――” Tom looked at Willard for confirmation――“then I guess you’d
better do it, if you will. When could you start?”
“To-night. You get her hauled around to your stable and I’ll start in
this evening to take her down.”
“That will be fine! That is, if I can get the carriage taken away
to-day. If I can’t I’ll let you know. Have you a telephone here?”
“Yes, 48-W. I’ll be here till four. If you can’t get her around to-day
let me know and I’ll start to-morrow. That’s a bargain, then, fellows.
I’m to put her in good runnin’ shape; best I know how; and you pay me
fifty-five dollars when she’s done. All right. See you later.”
CHAPTER V
THE BARGAIN IS SEALED
There wasn’t much chance for conversation on the way back, for it
lacked only fifteen minutes of school time and the high school was a
good mile and a quarter distant. Once on River Street they broke into
a jog-trot and kept it up until they turned into Logan Street and the
sidewalk began to tilt upward. After that trotting was out of the
question, but, although there was time to talk, neither had enough
breath left. As they entered the school grounds and followed the gravel
path that curved to the west entrance of the big yellow brick building
they managed to gasp out an agreement to meet after morning session.
Then the doorway swallowed them and each hurried away to his room with
only the fraction of a minute to spare.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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