The Whirlwind easily towed the weight of the disabled runabout, and the autoists were soon approaching town. "Let me out at the post-office, please," begged Mary of Cora, as they rolled through the village streets. "I had better not let madam see me out riding." "Why, she gave you permission, didn't she?" asked Cora in surprise. "But I would rather get out here," insisted Mary, not answering the question directly. "If you'll cast me loose, I'll run my machine in this shop," suddenly called Sid, as they passed a rather tumble-down shack on a side street. "But you're not going to let old Smith tinker with it, are you?" asked Walter. "Oh, I don't know what I'll do with it!" snapped Sid. "May as well leave it here as anywhere else." Smith's place was a second-rate blacksmith shop, while at Chelton Center, a little farther on, there was a fine garage--Newton's--the one at which Cora and the twins had met the handsome machinist. "Why don't you take it to Newton's?" asked Cora. "We'll go there with you. I--er--, I know the machinist there." "I prefer to leave it here," said Sid shortly. "Stop, please, and I'll loosen the rope." "Oh!" exclaimed Cora shortly. She could not understand Sid. Walter stopped her car, and before it had come to a full halt Sid was detaching the tow rope. Mary took this chance to alight from the Whirlwind, as they were not far from the post-office, and Ida followed her. Sid cranked up for the short run into the blacksmith shop. Ida and Mary were walking down the street together. "Go ahead!" Sid called to Walter. "Oh, you're welcome," replied Walter sarcastically. "Not the least trouble, thank you. Glad at any time--" Sid shot at him an angry glance over his shoulder. "I'd like to know who had a better right to haul me out of the ditch?" he said sneeringly. Jack, with the twins, had run on. As Walter started Cora's machine off again, they saw a man coming out of the smithy. He helped Sid push the car in, and then stood talking with him in a friendly sort of fashion. The man's clothing was unkempt, and his general appearance anything but prepossessing. "Who's that?" asked Cora. "Him, you mean?" inquired Walter. "Oh, that's Lem Gildy. Or just plain Lem, if you like that better." "What does he do?" "Nothing. Easily said. Yet I've heard it remarked that he'd do anything for money." "Curious that Sid should be on such friendly terms with such a character." "Rather," remarked Walter, and he turned to see Sid pointing at the big car, while Lem Gildy was nodding his head as if assenting to something. CHAPTER VII TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS LOST Edward Foster, as he ran his machine along the country road toward New City, where he was to transact his business at the bank, was thinking of many things. And not all of them were connected with the large sum of money and the bonds which he was to exchange for stock. A certain bright-eyed girl figured largely in his reveries.