"Father, is there anything the matter?"
"Oh, no," pleaded Billy. "Not here?"
The Watermelon leaned forward and opened the door. "Every one get out," he ordered. "We can walk to the house. We mustn't monkey with the car unless we want a pile of junk on our hands."
He stepped out and turned to help the girls.
"Not at all," declared the general. "I know all about a car. I can fix it directly." He alighted and started to raise the bonnet. The Watermelon intervened.
"Look in the gasolene tank first," he begged.
The general was already deep in the mechanism, oblivious to all else. "It's the carburetor—"
"Carburetor nothing," pleaded the Watermelon. "It's the gasolene."
"Yes," agreed Henrietta indiscreetly, "maybe it is."
"That won't help us any," snapped the general angrily. "Where can we get more? Much better to have something else wrong—"