“Done? Everything! Examined the sparking plugs: they’re all right. Wires from battery: they’re all right. Battery itself, that’s all right. Plenty of petrol in the tank. Everything’s all right, hang it, and yet the thing won’t go!”
“Don’t you worrit, measter. Give me a lend of your tools.”
The boy’s cocksureness again amused Mr. Greatorex, who seated himself on the parapet of the bridge, and mopped his perspiring face, smiling pleasantly. Though past fifty he was still young at heart, and very ready to be amused. He took out a pipe, filled and lit it, and puffed away, with an expression of serene contentment on his rubicund dirty face.
The boy flung off his hat and disappeared. Metallic sounds came from the interior of the car.
“How are you getting on, boy?” asked Mr. Greatorex after some ten minutes.
There was no answer.
Five minutes passed.
“Find it rather too much for you, eh?” said Mr. Greatorex, looking more amused than ever.
Still there was no answer.
“Got everything you want?” he asked again.