With a troubled countenance Winthrop bent forward and clasped
the clutch.

"Better come, Peabody," he said.

"I thank you, no," repeated Peabody. "I must go with my
sister."

As the car glided forward Brother Sam sighed heavily.

"My! but he's got a mean disposition," he said. "He has quite
spoiled MY day."

He chuckled wickedly, but Winthrop pretended not to hear, and
his sister maintained an expression of utter dejection.

But to maintain an expression of utter dejection is very
difficult when the sun is shining, when you are flying at the
rate of forty miles an hour, and when in the cars you pass
foolish youths wave Yale flags at you, and take advantage of
the day to cry: "Three cheers for the girl in the blue hat!"

And to entirely remove the last trace of the gloom that
Peabody had forced upon them, it was necessary only for a tire
to burst. Of course for this effort, the tire chose the
coldest and most fiercely windswept portion of the Pelham
Road, where from the broad waters of the Sound pneumonia and
the grip raced rampant, and where to the touch a steel wrench
was not to be distinguished from a piece of ice. But before
the wheels had ceased to complain, Winthrop and Fred were out