Helena's knowledge of motor cars and engine trouble was not
extensive--she was conversant only with the "fool's mate" of motoring.

"Maybe there's no gasoline," she suggested helpfully.

"Nonsense!" returned Thornton, with a laugh. "I told Babson to see that
the tank was full before he brought the car around--he wouldn't forget a
thing like that."

Thornton, nevertheless, tested the gasoline tank.

"Well?" inquired Helena, breaking the silence that followed.

"There is no--gasoline," said Thornton heavily.

Neither spoke for a moment. There was no sound but the steady drip from
the leaves. Then Helena forced a laugh.

"Isn't it ridiculous!" she said. "That is what one is always making fun
of others for. I--I don't think it's going to stop raining--do you? And
we're miles and miles from anywhere. What _do_ people do when they're
caught like this?"

Thornton did not answer at once. Bitterly reproachful with himself, he
stood there coatless in the rain. If it had been a breakdown, an
accident that was unavoidable, a little of the sting might have gone out
of the situation--but _gasoline_! This--from rank, blatant, glaring,
inexcusable idiocy. Not on his part perhaps--but that did not lessen his
responsibility. They were miles, as she had said, from anywhere--four