"I'm awfully sorry, but--but we couldn't help it," said Cora,
standing up and looking at the young man.

He approached closer, began wading out into the pond toward the
auto. The water was not very deep, hardly up to his knees. Cora
found herself wondering how he had managed to fish in it.

He was very good-looking, each of the girls was thinking to herself.

"Can't I help you?" he asked, smiling broadly, in spite of the mud
and water splashed all over him. There was actually a little globule
of mud on the end of his nose. He seemed as much amused over his own
predicament as he was over that of the motor girls. "Do you need any
help?" he went on.

"I'm sure I--er--that is, I hardly know," stammered Cora. She was
not altogether certain about the state of the auto. "I'm afraid
we've been very--very impolite--to splash water, and--er--mud all
over you," she added.

"Not at all--not at all," he assured her. "I never saw a better--a
better turn, so to speak. You are very plucky, if I may be permitted
to say so. I--er--I almost said my prayers when I saw you racing
down toward the train. Then I saw you turn in here. But what
happened that you couldn't stop before?"

"The brake," replied Cora. "It refused to work. This is a new
car--our first trip, in fact."

"Oh, I see," replied the young man. "Well, I know a little about