Wednesday’s game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan pitchers—she used two of them—were easy for the home-team batsmen, while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan’s runs resulted from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender, and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an atrocious throw to second.
On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. “It’s something about the automobile,” explained Louise. “There’s a man here to look at it, Gordon.”
Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What passed in the sick chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted at intervals. Finally:
“About fifty dollars will do it,” he said, in a sad tone of voice. “There’ll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders’ll have to be straightened out again, and it’ll need a new lamp and the radiator’s sprung and likely leaks and——”
“Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?” asked Gordon.
“I don’t know how good it was when it was new,” responded the man dolefully. “But fifty dollars’ll fix it up in good shape, likely.”
“All right. I’ll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on it right away?”
“Likely I could. I’d have to haul it down to my place, though.”
“How long would it take?”
“Two or three weeks, likely.”