"I don't suppose you carry such a thing as an emergency can of gasoline anywhere in the car?" she asks Barry.
"I'm sure I don't know," says he. "The fellow in the garage insisted on selling me a lot of stuff once. It's all stowed under the seat."
"Let's see," says she, liftin' out the cushion. "Why yes, here it is—a whole quart. And a little funnel, too. Now if we could pour enough into the feed pipe to fill the carburetor——"
It was a grand little scheme, only the funnel end was too big to fit into the feed pipe.
"Any tire tape?" demands Ann.
Barry thought there was, but we couldn't find it. Then he remembered he'd used it to wrap the handle of his tennis racquet once.
"I got some gum," says I.
"The very thing!" says Ann. "It must be chewed first though. Here, Barry, take two or three pieces."
"But I don't care for gum," says Barry. "Really!"
"If you don't wish to spend the night here, chew—and chew fast," says Ann.