“Well, it will,” said Avery, with a laugh.
“It hasn’t,” exclaimed Dan, sharply.
“What’s that?”
“Since our machine was brought here Burton Poole’s has been repaired and repainted. Ours hasn’t been touched.”
“Look here, young saucebox!” exclaimed Avery, in a passion, “Who told you to come here and tell me my business? Your car will wait its turn——”
“You gave its turn to Poole’s car,” declared Dan, stubbornly. “You know you did. You do not mean that our car shall be repaired.”
Somebody had stopped quietly behind them. A stern voice said:
“What’s the matter, Avery?”
“Mr. Robert!” exclaimed Billy.
Robert Darringford stood there, his automobile coat thrown back, his Norfolk jacket unbelted, and cap and goggles pushed back from his pleasant face. He was just drawing off his gauntlets.