“Oh! Those motors! There now!” she exclaimed “I’ve never told you my name. It’s Marie Neighbor. What are yours?”
The girls told her.
“Motors are a real bother,” she said, returning to her original subject. “Uncle has had six or eight of them in all, on cars, yachts and all that. Not one of them was like any other one. I puzzled my poor old head nearly off over them but I always succeeded in making them go. They’re worse when there’s no gas. Once I tried a pint of ether and some moth balls instead of gas. That came near being my last experiment. The cylinder exploded. Perhaps I can help you with your engine. Let’s have a look.”
Florence led the way to the engine room and there switched on a light.
Marie studied the motor for a moment.
“But my dear,” she exclaimed at last, “this wire should be fastened there and that one here. You have them crossed. That will never do. Hope you haven’t ruined your batteries. But never you mind, I have a set down at the igloo.”
“Now about the timer. That screw’s loose there. Off time of course. Why, there’s nothing the matter with the motor; not really. We’ll have it going in a moment.”
She gave the balance wheel a turn. There followed a sucking sound. A second turn brought a similar result; the third elicited a loud explosion and the fourth threw the engine into such a spasm of coughing as set the whole yacht a-tremble.
“There you are,” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I told you there wasn’t anything the matter.” She touched a lever. The engine stopped. Then she reached for a handful of waste with which to clean her dainty fingers.
“Now,” she said, “shall we go over to the igloo? I think the wind is changing. The ice may be going out to-night. In that case you may be wishing to leave in the morning. The yacht will be all right here. No one about and no chance for her to go out of the river. Throw a line out and tie her to the shore. That’ll make her doubly safe.”