"Why, Jane, what is the matter?" cried Miss Elting.

"Like a sailboat, we can't make much headway without wind. As it
happens, we have no wind on the quarter, as the sailors would say."

"I don't understand."

"She means the tires are down," explained Harriet Burrell.

"Yes. I told Dad those rear tires were leaking, but he declared they
were good for five hundred miles yet."

"Can't we patch them?" queried Harriet.

"We can," replied Jane, "but we aren't going to until this rain lets
up a little. Please don't ask me to get out and paddle about in the
wet, for I'm not going to do anything of the sort." Jane began to hum
a tune. Her companions settled back comfortably. It was dry and cosy
in the car and the travellers felt drowsy. Jane was the only really
wide-awake one. Margery finally uttered a single, loud snore that
awakened the others. The girls uttered a shout and began shaking
Margery, who pulled herself sharply together, protesting that she
hadn't been asleep for even one little minute.

"That ith the way thhe alwayth doeth," observed Tommy. "Then thhe
denieth it. I'm glad I don't thnore. Ithn't it awful to thnore, Mith
Elting?"

"Having too much to say is worse," answered Jane pointedly. "The storm