“You can,” said Mattie. “Provided you have an order from your Ration Board.”
“Not without it?”
Mattie gazed at Penny with undisguised scorn. “What sort of a place do you think we run here?” she demanded. “Of course we don’t sell tires without an order.”
“But we were told—”
“Well, you were told wrong,” snapped Mattie. “Sorry. I can’t help you.”
Picking up a wrench from the desk top, the woman left the office.
“I guess I didn’t approach her the right way,” remarked Penny sadly. “Either that, or our information was incorrect. Louise, are you sure—”
“Oh, I am!” her chum insisted. “The two women I overheard, distinctly said Mattie Williams’ garage. Of course, they might have been wrong about it.”
Before Penny and Louise could leave the office, a middle-aged man with glasses came in through the street door.
“Sam Burkholder here?” he demanded, warming himself by the stove.