They had a few leaks to contend with when the rain drove against the car, leaks that simply refused to be located when the weather was dry and Wayne, armed with pieces of tin, and tacks, and a hammer went searching for them. But even more expensive houses leak, and it was a simple enough matter to move away from the trickles. To be sure, it wasn’t so pleasant when they awoke one very stormy night toward the first of April to find that the trough-shaped seat upon which they were reposing had turned itself into a reservoir for the collection of the rain driving in at a corner of the car. They had to open the draughts of the little stove and dry their blankets before they could go to sleep again on the opposite seat. And they had difficulties with the windows, too, occasionally, for the paper had a mean habit of breaking loose under the combined assaults of wind and rain. At such times the old horse blanket, now discarded as an article of bedding, was used as a temporary shutter. Wayne threatened to varnish or shellac the paper so that it would turn the rain, but he never carried out the threat. June was the cook and a very good one. He had a positive talent for coffee and could really do wonders with a frying pan. They never attempted ambitious feats of cookery, but they lived well, if simply, and had all they wanted. Only breakfast and supper, the latter a rather hearty meal, were eaten at “Carhurst.” The midday meal was taken in the town. Wayne went to the Golden Star Lunch when he had opportunity, at other times patronising the counter in the station. June skirmished his lunches in the hotel kitchen, and, since everyone there from the chef to the scullery maid liked him, fared well. Sam ate twice a day to the boys’ knowledge and, it was suspected, levied toll at noon hour on the employees of the stamping works. If there hadn’t been so many chipmunks and squirrels and, possibly, worthier game to chase he would have waxed fat and lazy at this period of his history.