But the boy made no reply; only the sound of knocking and screwing continued.
Mr. Greatorex laughed aloud.
“Come,” he said, getting up and standing with legs astraddle a foot or two from the car, “you mustn’t make too long a job of it, you know.” Then he chuckled.
Five minutes afterwards the boy crawled out. Mr. Greatorex laughed again as he surveyed the grimy little fellow. A great patch of black surrounded one eye, where he had rubbed his knuckles.
“All right now, measter,” said the boy.
“What! Come, my lad, you’ve had your turn; now run along and fetch the smith.”
“Bean’t no need. She’ll go now.”
Mr. Greatorex looked impressed, stepped to the front of the car, and turned the handle; to his amazement the engines started. He sprang into the car, threw the engines into gear, and was still more amazed when, releasing the clutch pedal, he found that the car moved.
“Better take off the brake, measter,” said the boy.
“Why, yes, certainly,” said Mr. Greatorex, with a preoccupied air, and the car mounted the incline, spun across the bridge, and ran easily down the road. Then Mr. Greatorex stopped it and turned round.