“Look here,” he said, “I’m awfully sorry; but I’ll have to chuck it. I’ve tried everything I can think of. The only thing to do is to send someone out from the nearest town. If I had a rope, I’d tow you in, but I haven’t. Is there a motor man in Hamley?”
“Yes,” said the girl, “there’s a man called Jones, who does motors, but——”
“Well,” said Geoffrey, “you get into my car. I’ll drive you home, and then—by the way, where do you live?”
“In Hamley. My father’s the doctor there.”
“That’s all right. I’ll drive you home and send out Jones.”
“The worst of that is,” said the girl, “that Jones always charges the most frightful sums for anything he does.”
“But you can’t stay here all night,” said Geoffrey. “All night! It’ll be all day to-morrow too. As far as I can see it’ll be always. You’ll never make that car go.”
“If father was in any ordinary temper,” said the girl, “he wouldn’t grouse much about Jones’s bill. But just now, on account of what happened to him——”
“Yes,” said Geoffrey. “I understand. The sprained wrist makes him irritable.”
“It’s not exactly that,” said the girl. “Anyone might sprain a wrist. There’s no disgrace about that. The real trouble is that the poor old dear put some stuff on his wrist, to cure it, you know. It must have been the wrong stuff, for it brought on erysipelas.”