a lot all winter, and I know. I've been to hops and whist-parties and
church-suppers. The girls over there have made quite a little of me,
Sylvia, but I've never--"

There was a deafening report. Thomas, cursing inwardly, interrupted
himself.

"We must have had a blow-out," he said, bringing the car to a noisy stop.
"Wait a second, while I get out and see."

It was all too true. A large nail had passed straight through one of the
front tires. He stripped off his ulster, and the coat of his dress-suit,
and turned up his immaculate trousers.

"You'll have to get up for a minute, while I get the tools from under the
seat, Sylvia. I'm awfully sorry.--It's pretty dark, isn't it?--I never
changed a tire but once before. Austin's always done that."

"Austin's always done almost everything," snapped Sylvia. Then, peering
around to the back of the car, "Why don't _you do_ something? What _is_
the matter now?"

"The lock on the extra wheel's rusted--you see it hasn't been undone all
winter. I can't get it off."

"Well, _smash_ it, then! We can't stay here all night."

"I haven't got anything to smash it _with_. I must have forgotten to put
part of the tools back when I cleaned the car."