The ride home was delightful, so the Arnolds said. The Arnolds talked of it, indeed, to each other, until they fell asleep--but even then they did not talk of it quite so long as their host worked cleaning up the car after the trip. Wheeler kept the automobile now in a neighbor's barn and took care of it himself; it was much cheaper than keeping it in Dearborn's garage. There were several other friends in the A's and B's and two in the C's who were taken out in the Wheeler automobile before Herbert one day groaned: "Jessica, this alphabet business is killing me. It does seem as if Z never would be reached!" "Why, Herbert!--and they 're all our friends, and you know how much they think of it." "I think of it, too, when the dinner checks and the supper checks come in. Jessica, we just simply can't stand it!" Jessica frowned and sighed. "I know, dear; but when the _car_ did n't cost anything--" "Well, lobster salads and chicken patties cost something," mentioned the man grimly. "I know it; but it seems so--so selfish to go all by ourselves with those empty seats behind us. And there are so many I have promised to take. Herbert, what can we do?" "I don't know; but I know what we can't do. We can't feed them to the tune of a dollar or two a plate any longer." There was a long pause; then Jessica clapped her hands. "Herbert, I have it! We'll have basket picnics. I 'll take a lunch from the house every time. And, after all, that'll be lots nicer; don't you think so?" "Well, that might do," acquiesced the man slowly. "Anyhow, there would n't be any dinner checks a-coming." August passed and September came. The Wheelers were in "M" now; they had been for days, indeed. Even home-prepared luncheons were beyond the Wheelers' pocketbook now, and no friend had been invited to ride for a week past. The spoiling of two tires and a rather serious accident to the machine had necessitated the Wheelers spending every spare cent for repairs. In the eyes of most of the town the Wheelers were objects of envy. _They_ had an automobile. _They_ could ride while others must plod along behind them on foot, blinded by their dust and sickened by their noisome odor of gasoline. As long as the Wheelers were "decently hospitable" about sharing their car, the townspeople added to their envy an interested tolerance based on a lively speculation as to when one's own turn for a ride would come; but when a whole week went by, and not one of the many anxious would-be guests had been invited, the interest and the tolerance fled, leaving only an angry disdain as destructive to happiness as was the gasoline smell of the car itself.