“But if they won’t fix the auto there, what will we do? We can’t cart the machine clear to Compton, and it would cost a mint of money to have men from the manufacturing plant come here to make repairs.”
“We’ll see,” said Dan. “Let’s sleep over it.”
That was like Dan; he always thought a thing out by himself. Billy, more impulsive and ready to discuss a point, found his brother sometimes exasperating. It kept him “guessing,” he complained; he never knew just what Dan would finally do.
He was not surprised, however, the next afternoon after the second session, that Dan should head for the Darringford shops instead of taking wheel for home. They came to the small gate in the stockade-fence that surrounded the machine shops, spoke to the gate-keeper, and went in to the repair department. When Mr. Hardy saw them in the doorway he looked slightly discomposed. In truth his somewhat smutted face changed color.
“Sorry, boys,” he said, hurrying toward them; “we haven’t had a chance to touch your machine yet. Hurried to death.”
“Of course, your outside jobs take their regular turn, don’t they, Mr. Hardy?” asked Dan, smoothly.
“Oh, of course! Er—that is—it’s the general rule.”
“Then no other outside job has been put in ahead of ours?”
“Why—now——”
“What do those fellows want?” asked a sharp voice suddenly, and Dan and Billy turned to see the superintendent of the shops eyeing them with disfavor.