“Not as long as no more of the teeth break. If they do you’ll know it because they’ll make a noise. There’ll be a noise there anyway, but it won’t be much. You can run all right. I’ll take this down to the shop and put it on the lathe. Might as well leave these things right here until I get back,” he added, referring to the scattered parts that littered the floor.
“When—when do you think you can do it, Jimmy?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I’ll get it fixed so you can run her to-morrow. It’ll take an hour or two to get down to the shop, do the work and get back. You couldn’t use the car to-day anyway, so I’ll leave it until evening. I do want to see that game, fellows.”
Tom swallowed his disappointment and assented. “And I wish you’d attend to ordering the new part,” he said. “I wouldn’t know how, I guess.”
“All right. I’ll get a letter off to-night. Hold on, though; hadn’t we better telegraph for it? We might save a couple of days that way.”
The boys agreed that that would be wise and Jimmy dropped the broken pinion into his pocket. “You fellows going to the game?” he asked. “You’d better. That fellow O’Brien who is going to pitch for the mill team is a wonder. He used to pitch for Waterbury.”
Tom hesitated, looking doubtfully at Willard. “I—I suppose we might as well,” he said finally. “I wish this hadn’t happened on Saturday, though. There’s always a lot of travel on Saturday.”
“Well, it can’t be helped, Tom,” comforted Willard. “We might as well make the best of it. And I, for one, would like mighty well to see the game. I guess a holiday won’t do us any harm, Tom.”
“N-no, but we’re losing a lot of money,” Tom mourned.