Tom shook his head.
“Better. Why don’t you? You can’t run the car, can you? You and Will come and see the game. It’s a fine chance, Tom.”
“Maybe we will, if the car isn’t fixed; and I don’t suppose it will be,” answered Tom discouragedly as he drew up in front of the cabinet shop and honked the horn. Willard came out and was told of the trouble, Tom running the car back and forward to prove that he was not exaggerating.
“There’s just one thing to do,” said Willard decisively. “And that’s to get hold of Jimmy. Come on in and telephone to him.”
So Tom followed Willard to the shop, leaving Jerry in the car, and got Jimmy Brennan on the telephone. After reciting the symptoms Tom asked Jimmy what he thought the trouble was.
“Might be your gears,” was the reply. “Might be most anything. You can search me. But I tell you what I’ll do, Tom. You put the car in your stable and I’ll drop around as soon as I’ve had dinner and see what I can do. I don’t have to work this afternoon and so maybe I can get it fixed up for you. I wanted to see the ball game, but I guess that won’t matter. I’ll be around about half-past one.”
“That’s mighty decent of you, Jimmy,” replied Tom gratefully. “You don’t think I’d better try to run the car this morning, do you?”
“I wouldn’t. Better wait till we see what’s wrong with it.”
“All right. I’ll take it right back. I’m sorry about the ball game, though.”
“Oh, that’s all right. It don’t matter. A fellow I know at the mill is going to pitch and I thought I’d like to see it. Well, so long. See you later.”