"Well ... I just haven't got the dough right now," he said lamely.
"Woody Hartford," said Mary Jane. "You knew ten days ago about this date. You asked for it then. You had plenty of time to call me before—"
"But, honey—" said Woody.
"Never mind," snapped Mary Jane. "I'm going to the movie, and it won't be with you. I just hope I never see you again—you and that silly old car of yours." Woody thought he heard a sob before the receiver clicked in his ear.
At ten minutes to seven, Bob Peters came round with the manifold. He swept into the service station in a yellow Buick convertible that Woody knew he'd bought out of spare-time earnings. Woody took one look at him, and his heart sank. Mary Jane, dressed up as lovely as a princess, was seated beside Bob, and she looked right through him.
"The manifold's in the back," said Bob cheerfully. "Do you mind getting it out? I don't want to soil my duds."
Woody opened up the back of the convertible and took out the manifold. When he had put it on the ground carefully, Bob said, "That'll be ten bucks—cash."
Woody gave the money, a five and five singles, to Bob, and Mary Jane said, "Oh," putting more scorn and contempt into the word than Woody would have thought possible. Then the two drove off, Mary Jane with her nose very high in the air and her brown eyes surprisingly stony.
"What have ye got there, laddie?" Worm asked when they had gone.
Woody looked at the manifold and after the departing car. He thought of Worm's book, Davie's Problems and Principles of Internal Combustion Engines.