“She might if she had some gasoline in her. Mind, I ain’t saying she would, for I ain’t tried her. I wouldn’t know how. I never ran one of the things in my life. But the man I took her from says she’ll run, an’ I’ll take his word for it till I find out different. Anyway, she’s all there; there ain’t no parts missing. You can tell ’em that, son.” “Yes, sir; I will.” Tom rescued his books, which he had laid aside, and, with a final look at the automobile, left Saunders’ Carriage Works and took up his homeward journey again. It was the first week in June, and the afternoon was warm and almost summer-like. There was a lazy quality in the air, which, possibly, explains why Tom had taken twenty minutes to get from the high school to Saunders’ Carriage Works and why the sight of a decrepit-looking automobile standing in front of the works had caused him to pause and waste another ten minutes. He had left school with the intention of going out to the field, after leaving his books at home and making a raid on the pantry, to watch the high school team practice baseball. Now, however, baseball practice had passed out of his mind. He was thinking of that old automobile back there. He knew very well what he would do with a hundred and fifty dollars if he had it! He would buy that car, fix it up so it would run and make money with it! He needed money, too. He had already made up his mind to find work of some kind as soon as school was over, and so far the best thing that had offered was a position at four dollars a week in the Audelsville Paper Mill. Tom was convinced that his services ought to be worth more than that stipend, and, if a more remunerative position could be found, the paper mill was not likely to see him. Tom’s father was postmaster at Audelsville, but the salary was barely enough to provide for a family of three. It had long been a settled matter that a college education for Tom was beyond the possibilities, and that so soon as he had graduated from the high school he was to go to work. There was still another year of schooling ahead, however, and Tom, who needed clothes pretty badly nowadays, owing to an unfortunate but quite natural proclivity for outgrowing his garments, didn’t see why it was necessary to complete his education before beginning to earn money. And if he owned that automobile――Tom sighed as he pushed open the gate and went up the short path to the house. The pantry didn’t offer much in the way of variety to-day, but Tom selected four doughnuts and a banana, and went out to the porch. There he seated himself on the top step, and set to with a good appetite. He had finished the second doughnut when the sound of whistling behind the row of overgrown lilacs along the fence reached him. Tom craned his neck, for the whistling sounded like the musical efforts of Willard Morris. Tom was not mistaken. The smiling face of Willard appeared over the gate. “Hello, Tom!” greeted Willard. “Going out to the field?”