NELSON HALEY
The team drew to a halt without any command, and directly beside the young man, who was working diligently over the overturned motorcycle. His repair kit was spread out at the roadside, and the cause of the trouble was self-evident, it would seem. But Walky was a true Yankee and had to ask questions.
"Had a puncture, Mister?" he drawled, as the young man looked up, saw
Janice on the seat beside the driver, and flushed a little.
"Oh, no!" returned the victim of the accident, with some asperity. "I'm just changing the air in these tires. The other air was worn out, you know."
For a moment Walky's eyes bulged, and Janice giggled loudly. Then Mr. Dexter saw the point of the joke. He slapped his leg and laughed uproariously.
"You'll do! By jinks! you surely will do," he declared. "I reckon you air smart enough, young feller, ter teach the Poketown school. An' that's what they say you're in these parts for?"
"I am here to see the school committee about the position," said the young fellow. "Are you one of the committee?"
"Me? No—I should say not!" gasped Walky. "Old Bill Jones, an'
'Squire Abe Connett, and Elder Concannon air the committee."
"Oh!" returned the youth, quite coolly. "I didn't know but you were one of the number, and that I was already being put through my examination."
But Walky Dexter was not easily feazed. He just blinked twice over this snub and pursued the conversation: