middle-aged man. "Guess I'll have to investigate her."

Scratching his head, he proceeded to "investigate," and at the end of
fifteen minutes hazarded an opinion that they were "out of luck."

"Looks like I'll have to go back to the school garage and get 'em to
send us a tow," he announced pleasantly.

"We want to go to the Academy!" chorused the girls. "We're late now. Oh,
George, can't you fix it?"

"Betty, don't you know anything about cars?" appealed Miss Anderson,
who had discovered that Betty was apt to be invaluable in an emergency
of any kind.

Betty had to confess that her experience had been confined to horses. The
Littell girls had been used to cars all their lives, but like the
majority of such fortunates, knew nothing about them beyond the colors
suitable for upholstery.

"I've helped my dad with his car," ventured Norma diffidently. "This
isn't the same make, but perhaps I can tell what the matter is."

The beautiful, expensive school bus was in fact another type than the
shabby, rattly affair Dr. Guerin made spin over the rough country roads.
However, Betty remembered at least one night, and she knew her experience
had been duplicated by many others, when the noise of the asthmatic
little car had been like sweetest music in her ears.

The doctor's daughter took off her plain jacket, rolled back her white