Steve and the Steam Engine

by Sara Ware Bassett

"I guess not, my dear," asserted Mrs. Tolman tranquilly. "The car has not been out of the garage until now. It must have been somebody else you saw."

"But it was your car—I am certain of it," persisted Mrs. Taylor.

"Nonsense, Mary!" laughed her husband. "If the car has been in the garage for a week how could it have been. You probably dreamed it. You want a big red car so much yourself that you see them in your sleep."

"No, I don't," protested Mrs. Taylor smiling good-humoredly at her husband's banter.

"Well, it may have been the Woodworths'," Mrs. Tolman said with soothing inspiration. "They have a car like ours and Mrs. Woodworth came to call while I was away. I'll ask the maid when I get home."

"Y-e-s, it may have been the Woodworths'," admitted Mrs. Taylor reluctantly. It was plain, however, that she was unconvinced. "But I could have staked my oath that it was your car and Steve driving it," she added carelessly.

"Steve!" Mr. Tolman ejaculated.

"Oh, Steve never drives the car," put in Mrs. Tolman quickly. "He is not old enough to have a license yet, you know. That proves absolutely that you were mistaken. But Stephen has run the car now and then when Havens or his father were with him and he does very well at it. Some day he will be driving it alone, won't you, son?"

Bending forward she patted the boy's shoulder affectionately.

For an instant it seemed to Stephen as if every one in both cars must have heard the pound, pound, pound of his heart, as if everybody from Coventry to Torrington must have heard it. Helplessly he stared at Bud and Bud stared back. No words were needed to assure the two that once again they were linked together by misdoing as they often had been in the past. Bud looked anxiously toward his chum. He was a mischievous, happy-go-lucky lad but in his homely, freckled face there was a winsome manliness. Whatever the scrapes he got into through sheer love of fun it was characteristic of him that he was always courageous enough to confess to them. This was the first inkling he had had that Stephen had not acquainted his father with the escapade of the previous week and such a course was so at variance with his own frank nature that he was aghast. Even now he waited, expecting his pal would offer the true explanation of the mystery under discussion. He was ready to bear his share of the blame,—bear more than belonged to him if he could lighten Steve's sentence of punishment.