III
As Trenton had not been reached the preceding Saturday, I determined to try again and to take Sally with me. Sally said she would be delighted to go. Next morning at about eight we were ready for the trip. It was a beautiful morning and Sally was as sparklingly pretty as a morning daisy. It was a pleasure to look at her. She had a parcel done up in paper which I stored in the tonneau. When I turned the crank nothing happened. I turned the crank again—still nothing happened. At the third turn there were two explosions and then silence. Fourth turn, ditto. Fifth turn, the engine ran for some time and just as we were ready to move stopped again. By this time my patience had a very thin edge, but, fortunately, the next turn gave the desired result and we were off.
My car had a serious defect: the radiator was too small and the water grew hot and boiled about every three miles. If there was much climbing the distance traveled before this happened was less. In consequence it was necessary to let the boiling water escape and provide a fresh charge, which required frequent running to the pump with a collapsible bucket.
About three miles from our starting place we reached a roadside spring and I replaced the water and plied the oil can. Not many yards below the spring we overtook a young lady walking in the direction we were going. It was Miss Horner on her way to the village just below. We stopped and asked her to ride with us. She was on her way to her school for some books which had been forgotten. On reaching the school we were invited to inspect it. It was an old-fashioned place, painted yellow outside, with a large coal stove at one side and blackboards surrounding the room on all the available wall space. There was a bench before the teacher’s desk on which the lazy or naughty pupils stood during the noon or recess periods.
After we left her Sally was very inquisitive. She wanted to know who she was, where she came from, how and where I had met her. Satisfied on these points we proceeded happily on our way. Presently the car began to steam and I to look for a watering place. The canal was close to the road, and after considerable searching I found a place where it was possible to reach the water with my bucket. I succeeded in doing so after some stretching but in lifting the bucket the weight of the water overbalanced me and down into the water I slid.
Sally cried out in alarm but wasted no time in thrusting a stick from the roadside into my hands. Then I was slowly and carefully pulled in and helped up the bank. I was in a pretty pickle. Wet from head to foot; my collar and shirt in collapse; my shoes filled with water, and my hat gone. I told Sally it did not matter. It was warm and I would soon dry off. As for my hat and collar I could replace them at the next country store. She said I was very brave and she was proud of me; and as she said this her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were full of rosy color. I had been very much surprised at her prompt, vigorous action in helping me and also at the strength she displayed. With her permission I removed my coat and shoes and laid them to dry in the tonneau. Then with a considerable increase in cordiality we once more took the road. At frequent intervals we were obliged to water the car and might fairly be said to have worked our passage. At Lehnenburg or Monroe we entered the red shale country which extends to Trenton and below. In many places this shale is covered with river sand or is replaced by sandstone rock belonging to the same formation but less strongly colored with iron oxide. Over roads varying in character but mostly bad we proceeded. From Erwinna to Point Pleasant the road was especially bad, being both rocky and muddy. By careful driving I managed to avoid splashing the car very badly. At New Hope we crossed the river and proceeded toward Trenton. It was now time for lunch and we drew up by the roadside under a maple and Sally produced her package which contained a lunch fit for kings. This we discussed amid a cheerful rain of jokes and chaff.
After lunch we proceeded and soon entered State Street and turned down South Broad. There were few cars in those days and no traffic policemen so that we could turn the car on South Broad and draw up before the bookstore.
I was a great admirer of Stockton and Stevenson and so I found was Sally. In the stock of second hand books by these authors we found copies of “The Lady and the Tiger,” “The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine,” “The Christmas Wreck” and “Amos Kilbright” by Stockton and “The Black Arrow,” “Kidnapped” and “The Strange Case of Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” by Stephenson. These we considered a great find and the price was very reasonable. They were stowed in the tonneau and Sally took her seat while I turned the crank. This time we started off without trouble.
We had got as far as Lambertville on the return when trouble with the car began to develop. The engine would run properly for awhile and then it would slow down and almost stop, then it would start running properly again. This continued until we were several miles above New Hope. Here the engine gave out completely. After trying in vain to start it again I abandoned hope and Sally and I pushed the car to the roadside and started off for help. We walked nearly a mile before we came to a house. I knocked at the door which was opened by a nice-looking boy of about ten years. In answer to my enquiry he said his Pop was at the barn and if we would sit down he would go after him. Presently the boy’s mother came in and we told her the car had broken down. She thought we had better spend the night there and go on in the morning. She had a spare room which we might use. I thought further explanations were in order and the old lady said if I would be content with a cot the young lady might have the spare room and I could sleep in the attic. I thanked her and, after consulting Sally, accepted. When the farmer came in we found nothing else could be done. He promised to drive me to New Hope in the morning and get a mechanic. I lay awake for a long time wondering what could be the matter. Finally it occurred to me that the gasoline might have given out. The next morning we had an early breakfast and the farmer and I drove to the car. Sure enough we found the tank as dry as a bone. Then we went on to New Hope and after some searching found gasoline and partly filled the tank. After turning the engine over several times it caught and we drove up to the house. Sally seemed to be worried but she said very little. On the way home she said she was afraid her mother might worry and wished there were some way to get word to her. I suggested that we telegraph but we found all the offices closed.
About 11 o’clock we reached home. I went in with Sally. Her mother seemed worried. She said she had been very much distressed by our non-arrival the night before and looked at me searchingly. I told her I had been very stupid but she must remember I had run a car only a short time and was not very experienced. Sally said she was sure I was not to blame.
The next day I needed some money and went to the bank. Jim Barkley waited on me and after he had cashed the check said:
“I hear you were stalled the other day because you had no gasoline? Pretty slick excuse.”
“No,” I said, “do you think so?”
“Ho, ho,” he said, “ho, ho!”
“He, he,” I said, “he, he!”
He looked pretty black at this but said nothing more.
I went to call on Sally that evening and she greeted me with smiles. She wanted to know whether I had caught cold? I said no, I had not. She told me she thought Jim Barkley was very disagreeable. He had been making nasty remarks about me. He had told Hetty Poiret that I was a prig. She thought he was very ugly-tempered and very stupid. Before I left she asked me whether I often took cold. I said I did. She advised me if I felt I was taking cold to soak my feet in hot water in a wooden bucket, the water should be very hot and contain a teaspoonful of soda. Then I must wipe my feet with a dry, hot towel and get into bed. She did not say retire, she said get into bed. I had not had such advice since my mother died two years before. She looked very earnest and very much concerned as she said it. It was not a romantic speech but somehow I liked to have her say it.