Loring looked doubtful and turned to Clif for an opinion, but Clif had been engaged in conversation by Mr. Burger, the proprietor, eager to learn about the accident, and whether any one had been injured. So Loring consented to Wattles’ return afoot and, after thanking the proprietor, the three departed. Wattles’ return to normal was instant when he had reached the sidewalk, and may have been due to any one of three things or a combination of all; the interesting spectacle across the street, the revivifying influence of fresh air or the shocking discovery that the handle-bar, by which he had so long manipulated the chair, was totally missing. Personally I think it was the latter, for Wattles seemed absolutely unable to reconcile himself to the loss of the handle, and propelled the chair in such an erratic, zig-zag fashion that Clif insisted on taking his place. Wattles, murmuring feeble, embarrassed protests, gave way and Clif became the motive power. Fortunately public interest was so entirely centered about the battered car, and more battered store that no one paid heed to the disappearance of two of the most important witnesses to the affair. For his part, Clif had no desire to be called on to testify against the driver of the car. The latter had undeniably been at fault, but Clif was pretty certain that to-day’s lesson would cure him of taking blind corners at high speed. After he had paid for “Poppy’s” store, and for reckless driving, and for repairs to his car, he would be, Clif concluded, both a poorer and a wiser man. Thought of “Poppy’s” emporium recalled to mind the fact that he was returning to school minus the object of his expedition, the Sunday paper, and when, just then, he discovered that what he had sought lay spread across Loring Deane’s knees, on top of the ever-present dark plaid robe, he chuckled. “I guess you’ll have to lend me your paper, Deane, when you’re through with it,” he said. “That’s what I went to the village for, but ‘Poppy’s’ stock was pretty well shop-worn by the time I got there!” “I’d like you to read it first,” answered Loring. “In fact, I don’t care if I don’t see it at all. I get it more for Wattles than myself.” “Oh, no, thanks, but I would like to see it when you’ve finished. There won’t be much chance for papers, anyway, before dinner, for it’s pretty close to church time now.” “Well, but I’d rather you took it first,” Loring insisted. “You know――you know, Bingham, you saved my life, I guess.” “Rot! You’d have made it all right even if I hadn’t butted in. Well――” and this was to switch the conversation from so embarrassing a subject――“I’ll take it first, if you’re sure you won’t mind. I’ll give it back to you this afternoon. You’re in that room of Mr. Clendenin’s, aren’t you, on the first corridor in East?”