“I don’t know how it could, but I am always expecting something to,” declared the big man. “Mark is a good driver— By the way, young lady, what’s all that mess on your lawn?” and he pointed to the wrecked aeroplane.
“Why, that’s it!” gasped Jessie.
“Er—indeed?” said Mr. Stratford.
Amy suddenly found her voice. As usual, she used it to laugh with.
“My goodness!” she cried, when she could speak. “He thinks Mark was driving his car.”
“Well, wasn’t he?” Mr. Stratford demanded. “I have always been afraid that that racer would bring him to grief.”
“Look! Look!” gasped Amy hysterically. She pointed to the wreck of the aeroplane. “He—he was driving that.”
“What under the sun was it?” murmured Mr. Stratford. Then, suddenly, he realized the nature of the wreck. “Not the plane?”
“Yes, Mr. Stratford,” Jessie interposed. “He fell with that thing. But, as I tell you, Doctor Ankers and Doctor Leffert say they can find nothing very serious the matter with him.”
There was a quizzical twist to the corners of Mr. Stratford’s lips as there was to Mark’s. Jessie thought that he must be just as likable as his son was. And now that he was reassured about Mark’s accident and his condition, he gave more attention to the two girls.