Class Day at the high school came on the twentieth that year, and for a week before it Willard, who was graduating, wasn’t able to give much time to the car. Tom managed to get one coat of varnish on unaided and did several small tasks about the tonneau. The leather cushions needed attention, for one thing, and after Tom had gone over them with tacks and replaced two or three missing buttons he dressed them with an evil-smelling concoction that Jimmy mixed for him. After that they really looked almost like new. A piece of carpet, discovered in the attic, was fitted on the tonneau floor and a rubber mat was secured from an automobile supply house in Providence for the front of the car. Meanwhile Jimmy had nearly finished his work, and Tom’s knowledge of gas engines had wonderfully increased. The wiring was put in new from batteries to cylinders, and Jimmy dissected the magneto and found it satisfactory. Tom attended the graduation exercises and heard Willard deliver an allegedly humorous speech in his office of Class Prophet. Also he went to the graduation ball and forgot The Ark long enough to dance with Willard’s sister Grace and Teddy’s sister Bess――unlike baseball games, dances, it seemed, did not cause Miss Thurston headaches!――and several other fellows’ sisters or cousins, and to eat an unbelievable quantity of salad and ices. Willard went on a visit to Wickford for three days after graduating, and finally turned up one Monday forenoon ready to go to work again on the automobile. He had not been near it for a week, and when he saw it he stared hard. Body and chassis had been joined again, and it was a very brave looking car that confronted him in the middle of the carriage room floor. Jimmy had taken a hand at painting the running gear, and, now, all that remained was a second coat of varnish on the body and two coats below. “Say, Tom, that’s some car!” ejaculated Willard. “Why――why, she’s a peach, isn’t she?” Tom agreed that she was. “And you ought to hear her run,” he said proudly. “Why, out on the sidewalk you’d hardly know she was here. Jimmy says she isn’t terribly quiet, but I don’t think she makes any more noise than that big car of Mr. Martin’s! Want me to start her for you so’s you can hear her?” “Do you know how?” asked Willard hesitatingly, moving away. “Of course,” replied Tom, with a fine air of nonchalance. “It’s easy enough.” So he turned the switch on to the battery, pulled down the throttle lever and tugged at the crank. There was a noise, but it wasn’t the sound of the engine running. “Is she going?” asked Willard awedly. “No,” panted Tom, “not yet. I guess she’s cold.” He gave the handle another half-dozen turns without result. [Illustration: “He gave the handle another half-dozen turns without result”] “Cold!” said Willard. “Gee, that’s more than I am and more than you look!”