“Rather—and, oh, did you bring any oil? We used all ours up.”
“We’ve got a screw-driver, though!” said Freddy.
“And lots of string!” shouted Teddy.
“You are a brick to come and do it,” shouted both.
Where in the world is there a tonic equal to the laugh of a light-hearted grateful little boy? How could Jeffreys help forgetting his trouble for a time and devoting himself heart and soul to the business of that tricycle? Trimble, as he dodged along after them perplexed and puffing, could hardly believe his eyes as he saw his morose colleague suddenly throw off the burden that was on him and become gay.
“Come along, little chaps—let’s see what we can do,” said Jeffreys, as the three strode out to the cottage. “Where is he?”
“In the shed. We’ve got a candle.”
Trimble saw them disappear into the garden, and, guided by their cheery voices, soon discovered the back of the shed in which the momentous surgical operation was to take place. It backed on the road, and might have been built for Trimble’s purpose. For the woodwork abounded in most convenient cracks, through which a spy might peep and listen luxuriously. What a day Jonah was having!
The Roshers conducted their friend into the place like anxious relatives who conduct a physician into a sick-chamber. The poor patient lay on the floor in a very bad way. Two wheels were off, the axle was bent, the wire spokes were twisted, the saddle was off, and the brake was all over the place.
Jeffreys shook his head and looked grave.