don't pretend to know anything about the machinery of the car, so I
haven't the slightest idea what was the matter, but the man talked
knowingly about magnetos and carburetors and said he could have the
trouble fixed by eight o'clock in the evening. We were vexed that it
should take so long, because we had expected to make South Bend early
in the evening, but there was no help for it, so we repaired to the
hotel next door--"hotel" by courtesy, for it was nothing more than a
wayside inn--for supper.

It was raining a fine drizzle, and, as we did not care to walk around
in it, after supper we sat in the stuffy parlor and tried to pass away
the hours until the Glow-worm would be cured of its sickness and we
could resume our journey. The carpet on the floor was a mixture of
hideous red and pink roses on a green background. I can see that carpet
yet. It was a Brussels, and Sahwah kept referring to it as one of the
Belgian Atrocities. There was a larger room opening out of the parlor
in which we sat, a sort of general reception and smoking-room combined.
There was an old square piano out there and some young man was banging
ragtime on it, while half a dozen others leaned over it and roared out
songs in several different keys at once. All around the room sat men,
smoking until the air was blue, and talking in loud voices, or shouting
snatches of the songs. They seemed a rather noisy lot and from the
scraps of conversation we heard we judged that they had come from
somewhere to attend the September horse races which were being held in
the neighborhood. At any rate, the hotel was swarming with them and we
were glad that we were to get out of there by eight o'clock and did not
have to stay all night. Once one of them walked into the parlor where
we sat and said "Good evenin', ladies," in an impertinent sort of way,
but we all froze him up with a glance and he went out without saying
anything more to us. We saw him cross the other room toward a door at