“I don’t see anything to do but to sit here in the car all night, and of course we can’t do that. Nor can one of us go and one stay, for I wouldn’t let you go alone, and I’m sure I wouldn’t let you stay here alone.”
“I think I’ll go,” said Patty, slowly. “You stay with the car, and I’ll walk home alone. It’s only three miles, and I’m sure it’s perfectly safe; there’s no one abroad at this time of night.”
“Patty, I can’t let you do it;” and Philip Van Reypen looked deeply troubled. “I can’t let you walk those three miles, alone, late at night.”
“But you don’t want to go and leave me here, sitting alone in a broken-down motor car?”
“No; I can’t do that, either.”
“And we can’t both go,—and we can’t both stay! So it’s a dead—what do you call those things?”
“A deadlock?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. If neither of us can go, and neither of us can stay, and we can’t both go, and we can’t both stay, isn’t that a pretty good imitation of a deadlock?”
“It certainly is! Now, in those lovely motor car novels that people write, somebody would come along just in the nick of time, and fix everything all right, and we’d all live happy ever after.”
“Yes; but we’re not in a novel, and I’m positive nobody will come along so late. What time is it?”
“A little after eleven,” said Philip, looking at his watch. “Patty, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I got you into this scrape, and I must figure some way to get you out! But it hasn’t come to me yet.”
Philip’s face was a picture of despair. He suddenly realised his responsibility in bringing Patty out here at night. It was done on a sudden impulse, a mere frolicsome whim, and, if the car hadn’t broken down, all would have been well.
“Don’t take it too seriously, Philip,” said Patty, in a pleading voice, for, now that she saw how he felt, she was sorry for him. “We’ll get out of this somehow! But, truly, I think the only way is for me to walk home and send father’s big car back for you and Camilla. I sha’n’t mind the walk half as much as I should mind sitting here, and waiting while you go.”
“But, Patty, you can’t walk three miles in those little, high-heeled slippers.”
Patty looked down at her little evening shoes, with their French heels. They were not suitable for a three-mile walk, but that was a secondary consideration. “I must go,” she said; “there is no other way.”
“Then I’m going with you,” declared Philip, stoutly. “And, if anybody steals that car, I’ll give you another one exactly like it! I’ll have it built to order, with the same specifications! This whole affair is my fault, and I’m going to get you out of it the best way I can.”
“It isn’t your fault! I won’t have you say so, just because that stupid old car chose the worst possible moment to break down! But, all the same, I don’t know how I can walk three miles in these high-heeled slippers with you any better than I could without you.”
Philip grinned. “When you get tired, I’ll carry you,” he declared. “I tell you I’m going to get you out of this scrape, if it takes all summer!”
“Well, it will, unless we start pretty soon. Come on, then.”
“Wait a minute. Suppose I take those heels off your shoes. Couldn’t you walk better then?”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! I’m accustomed to high heels. I can walk in them all right.”
“Yes; and, first thing you know, they’ll throw you, and you’ll twist your foot, and sprain your ankle——”
“Well, then you will have to carry me,” said Patty, laughing. “But, before we start, do let’s try once more to make the car go. Maybe it’s nothing but perverseness.”
But their efforts were unavailing, and Camilla stood stock-still in the middle of the road, as if she never intended to move again.
“It would be like the One-Hoss-Shay,” said Patty, “only in that, you know, every part dropped to pieces; and here nothing’s the matter with any part.”
“But there must be something the matter,” declared Philip, who was once again examining the batteries; “and, by jingo, Patty,—I’ve found it!”
“You have! What is it?”
“Why, the battery strap has separated, that’s all!”
“What is the battery strap? I don’t see any strap.”
“Oh, it isn’t a leather strap; it’s this band of lead that goes around the battery, but they call it a strap. See this crack across it?”
“Oh, that little crack! Does that do any harm?”
“Why, yes, of course; it completely stops the current. You see, the two ends of the strap almost touch; if they did touch, we’d be all right. Now, if I had a little piece of lead to connect those two parts where they are separated, I could fix it in a jiffy! Got any lead?”
“I don’t know. Look in the tool-box.”
“Just a little piece of lead wire, or anything that’s lead.”
“Try a lead pencil,” said Patty, but Philip was poking in the tool-box and paid little attention to her mild joke.
“There isn’t a lead thing here!” he exclaimed. “Your tool-box is too everlastingly cleared up! Every tool in a little pocket by itself! Why don’t you have a whole lot of old rubbishy junk; then we might find something for an emergency?”
“Can’t you find anything that will do?”
“Not a thing! To think that, now we’ve found out what the trouble is, we can’t mend it! and such an easy break to mend, if I just had a scrap of lead. Well, we may as well make up our minds to walk.”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Patty; “I didn’t mind walking so much when I thought the car had really broken down. But just that little bit of a crevice in the battery strap! Oh, can’t we mend it, somehow? Can’t you pull the strap out longer or something?”
“No, angel child, there’s nothing doing without some lead. After this, always bring some lead in your pocket.”
“But I haven’t any pocket.”
“Ah, that explains the absence of the lead! If you had had a pocket, of course you would have brought some lead. You’re excused.”
“Well, next time I’ll bring lead with me, you may be sure of that.”
“I hope you will, fair lady, and may I be here to use it! Now, shall we start for our moonlight stroll?”
“Wait a minute; I have a idea!”
“Something tells me your idea is a good one!”
“I don’t know whether it is or not. I’m afraid it isn’t. And I’m afraid to tell you what it is, for fear you’ll laugh at me.”
“I laugh? I, a man in charge of a broken-down motor, and a fair young girl with French heels, and midnight drawing nearer and nearer! I laugh! Nay, nay, I’m in no laughing mood!”
“Well, if you’ll promise not to laugh, I’ll tell you,—or, rather, I’ll show you.”
From a little utility case, which was tucked away under the seat of the motor, Patty drew out a good-sized package of sweet chocolate. “I always carry chocolate with me,” she said, “because it tastes so good when it’s dusty.”
“When