“That cranky old doctor knew his business, though it was like drawing teeth to get him to examine your father,” replied Tom. “It was an inspiration to send him abroad.”
“It might have been inspiration that sent him, but it took a young inventor named Tom Swift to bring him back,” said Mary. “I shudder yet to think of what might have happened if it hadn’t been for your courage and daring.”
“Oh, that was nothing,” answered Tom. “Any one else could have done the same if they’d had my facilities. I just happened to own an airplane that could do anything one asked of it. And the old bus certainly did herself proud.”
“The old bus, as you call it, wouldn’t have done anything if it hadn’t been for its pilot,” asserted Mary. “Everybody knows that. But you’re so painfully modest that I suppose you’d never own up to it, any more than you’d own up to what you did to-day.”
“What did I do to-day?” parried Tom.
“Oh, nothing,” laughed Mary. “Only saved a man from dying. Only set a broken leg as skillfully as a surgeon could do it. Apart from little trifles like that you didn’t do anything. I’d like to know what you would call a really good day’s work.”
“Ned Newton and Garret Jackson had as much to do with that as I did, Mary. But how did you come to hear about it, anyway?”
“Dr. Sherwood dropped in to see father early this evening,” was the answer. “You know they’re old friends. He thinks you ought to be a doctor.”
“I guess I’ll stick to invention and manufacturing for a while yet,” answered Tom, grinning. “Especially as I’m up to my neck in business. Everything’s humming down at the works. New contract came in to-day. At least I think it will be a contract if we can come to terms on prices. Going to give my answer to-morrow.”
“Tell me about it,” urged Mary.