“I rather question the willingness of any of our Barham folk to aid a shipwrecked automobile. You drive them so heedlessly, young gentleman. I confess,” she continued, judiciously, “that I rather enjoy your plight.”
The boy grinned delightfully. “So do I. It isn’t often”—how express the light mockery that danced on his lips!—“that my accidents are so charmingly compensated as this is.”
“I am quite serious, Mr. Fraser.”
“I am equally so, Miss Herron.”
A moment they regarded one another in silence. “I am inclined to offer you some assistance, I think,” the old lady announced, deliberately. “Merely out of common humanity. I have read that the drivers of automobiles often depend on friendly or highly paid wagoners to—to tow them. Now——”
Archibald drowned the rest in thankful protestations. And——
“It would be awfully kind of you, Cousin Agatha,” said little Lucy, suddenly finding her voice. “I’m sure that Archie——”
“Eh?”
“It would be very nice indeed,” the child contrived to say, and tried to look unconscious.
“If you could help me a little,” explained Archibald, and his own cheeks flamed, though his eyes faltered not a bit. “The break isn’t very serious, I guess.”