“Not for a long time yet,” said Wayne resolutely. “We aren’t going to have any supper at all until all these windows are fixed, June. It’s getting cold in here already and we’ll just naturally freeze tonight if we don’t get something over them. Come on and get to work. Where’s the tin?” It was almost twilight when they actually finished the undertaking. It is doubtful if they would have finished at all that evening if June hadn’t discovered a piece of tar paper nearly three yards long and a yard wide near the railroad embankment. It was torn and held some holes, but it was far better than nothing and it covered three windows, with the aid of a few pieces of wood found in the same locality. Those windows presented a strange appearance, but nobody cared about the looks of them. At least, when the door was closed and the stove was going, the car was warm enough for comfort even if the smoke did bring tears to their eyes. Until the coffee was boiled they kept the fire up, but after that they were very glad to let it go out. They had the equivalent of two cups of coffee apiece and finished most of the bread and butter. They were very hungry and it was so much easier to satisfy present appetites than to give thought to the morrow. The coffee was somewhat muddy, but, as June said ecstatically, “it certainly did taste scrumptuous!” After supper they sat huddled in a corner of the seat opposite the dying fire and talked. For some reason their thoughts tonight dwelt largely with Sleepersville, and Wayne wondered this and June that, and they decided that at the very first opportunity Wayne was to write back there and let his stepfather and June’s mother know that they were alive and well. And they wondered about Sam, too, and how he would like this new home. And presently they stretched themselves out on the seat, sharing the horse blanket as best they could, and slumbered soundly. CHAPTER VII THE LUCK CHANGES