She smiled down at the old man at the thought of him in a story. _Him!_ But the smile went straight to his heart; that was Jerry's gift, making him drop his board tray and break the cracked plate in his confusion. "Here's another quarter. That was my fault," Jerry insisted. "Oh no'm, no'm! 'Tain't nobody's fault." The voice quavered as the scaly brown hand thrust back the proffered coin. Jerry could not understand why this creature should refuse her money. Tipping, to her mind, covered all the obligations her class owed to the lower strata of the earth's formation. <tb> At sunset York Macpherson drove into Ponk's garage. "Hello, fellow-townsman! You look like a sick man!" he exclaimed, as the owner met him in the doorway. "I'd 'a' been a dead man if you hadn't come this minute," Ponk growled back. "Congratulations! The good die young," York returned. "I failed to get through to the place I wanted to see. That Saturday rain filled the dry upper channels where a bridge would rot in the tall weeds, but an all-day rain puts a dangerous flood in every ford, so I came back in time to save your life. What's your grievance?" Ponk's face was agonizing between smiles and tears. "Well, spite of all I, or _anybody_ could do, Miss Swaim takes my little gadabout this morning and makes off with it." "And broke the wind-shield? I told you to keep her at home." York still refused to be serious. "I don't know what's broke, except my feelin's. You tried yet to _keep_ her anywhere? She would go off to that danged infernal blowout section of the country, _and she ain't back yet_." York Macpherson grasped the little man by the arm. "Not back yet! Where is she, then?" "She ain't; that's all I know," Ponk responded, flatly. "Yes, yes, yonder she is just soarin' into the avenue up by 'Castle Cluny' this minute. Thank the Lord an' that Quaker-colored gadabout!" "Tell her I'll see her at the hotel as soon as I get my mail," York said, and he hurried to his office. A few minutes later Jerry Swaim brought the gray runabout up to the doorway of the garage. Ponk assisted her from it and took the livery hire mechanically. "Thank you, Miss Swaim. Hope you had a safe day. No'm, that's too much," handing back a coin of the change. "That's regular. Yes'm." Then, as an afterthought, he added, with a bow, "York Macpherson he's in town again, an' he's waitin' to see you in the hotel 'parlor.'" "Oh!" a gasp of surprise and relief. "Thank you, Mr. Ponk. Yes, I have had a safe day." And Jerry was gone. The little man stared after her for a full minute. Then he gave a long whistle.