About sivin in the avening the hole family, including meself set out from the house for 17 Arch Strate, which is the number on the letter paper. Mr. John and Mr. James walked on eyther side there puir mother, haulding her up by the arms, while Miss Claire and I carried hankychiffs and smilling salts. By and by we cam to the place, a little auld barn setting up aginst the side walk. The family guv a look at the noomber and thin walked boldly in widout nocking. There were a noysy lot of men inside. A little greesy fellow in overalls cum sontering up to Mr. John. “What can I do for you?” ses he. Mr. James ansers befure his brother can spake. “Is Mr. Wolley here?” ses he bloontly. “Shure” ses the man “he’s over there wid Miss Flyte” ses he. Mrs. Wolley stepped forward, her eyes popping out wid anger. “Where?” ses she in such a horty tone the man stared at her wid surprise. “There!” ses he, and poynts across the barn. “Hes having a bit of trubble wid the auld lady” ses he. [Illustration: “Mr. Wolley cum crorling frum underneath the ortermobile.” ] We wint across the barn, but see nothing but wan of thim red tooring cars. We’ve cum close to the ortermobile whin Mr. James makes a discuvery. Theres sumwan lying undernathe the masheen. He’s hammering on sumthing, and theres a lited lantern on the flure beside him. Just as the discuvery was made, Mr. John likewise seen the feet; then Miss Claire reckynised her papa’s boots and me his hat. Mrs. Wolley nelt down and looked under the masheen. Then she guv a scrame. “Charles!” ses she and almost faints. Mr. Wolley cum crorling frum undernathe the ortermobile. He looks a site, wid his face cuvvered clane wid dirt and his hands dripping down wid greese. He guv a look about him, seen us all, and drapped his mouth open wid astonishment. Joost then Mr. James burst out larfing, and the hole blessed family joyned in. “You dummed old frord” ses Mr. James. “What do you meen sor?” ses Mr. Wolley. “Whares Miss Flyte?” asks Mr. John. The auld fellow looked sheepish, and he guv a look back at the ortermobile. “Well, ye may as well no the thruth” ses he, “Ive made a good invistmint. I’ve bort Miss Flyte. She’s a ginooine bargin, better than anny Frinch imported car, and at quarter the price. I’ve been coming avenings to lern how to run and understand her. Isn’t she a booty?” ses he, turning to his new infachuation. Mrs. Wolley guv a little sob, then she run tord him jest like a child, and he guv her a kiss, and then helped her clime into the masheen. “There’s room for six” ses he. “All aboord. We’ll tak Miss Flyte home.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIX NEXT DAY