“Too bad, Smithers,” he said in a vexed tone, “if Elmer there can’t fix that motor we’ll have to leave the car here and telephone into Boston for another.”
The chauffeur straightened up from his labors over the refractory motor.
“I’m afraid we’re stuck, sir,” he said, “this car is a Dolores. If it was any American car now, I could——”
“Never mind that,” interrupted the big man, with an impatient gesture. “I hired you as a competent chauffeur and now the first break-down we have——”
“If it was an American car,” protested the man. “I don’t understand these Dolores and——”
“Maybe I can help you.”
It was Ned who spoke and the big man faced round on him in surprise.
“You!” he exclaimed. “What do you know about cars?”
“A little, sir.”