to be wrong with the carburetor," Tom
answered. "I won't try to monkey with it now. Let's hike for that
farmhouse. We'll be lucky if we don't get drenched. Are you sure you're
all right, Mary?"

"Certainly, Tom. I can stand a worse shaking up than that. And you
needn't think I can't run, either!"

She proved this by hastening along at Tom's side. And there was need of
haste, for soon after they left the stranded aeroplane the big drops
began to pelt down, and they reached the house just as the deluge came.

"I don't know this place, do you, Tom?" asked Mary, as they ran in
through a gateway in a fence that surrounded the property. A path
seemed to lead all around the old, rambling house, and there was a
porch with a side entrance door. This, being nearer, had been picked
out by the young inventor and his friend.

"No, I don't remember being here before," Tom answered. "But I've
passed the place often enough with Ned and Mr. Damon. I guess they
won't refuse to let us sit on the porch, and they may be induced to
give us a glass of milk and some sandwiches--that is, sell them to us."

He and Mary, a little breathless from their run, hastened up on the
porch, slightly wet from the sudden outburst of rain. As Tom knocked on
the door there came a clap of thunder, following a burst of lightning,
that caused Mary to put her hands over her ears.

"Guess they didn't hear that," observed Tom, as the echoes of the blast
died away. "I mean my knock. The thunder drowned it. I'll try again."

He took advantage of a lull in the thundering reverberations, and
tapped smartly. The door was almost at once opened by an aged woman,
who stared in some amazement at the young people. Then she said:

"Guests must go to the front door."

"Guests!" exclaimed Tom. "We aren't exactly guests. Of course we'd like
to be considered in that light. But we've had an accident--my aeroplane
stopped and we'd like to stay here out of the storm, and perhaps get
something to eat."

"That can be arranged--yes," said the old woman, who spoke with a
foreign accent. "But you must go to the front door. This is the
servant's entrance."

Mary was just thinking that they used considerable formality for casual
wayfarers, when the situation dawned on Tom Swift.

"Is this a restaurant--an inn?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the old woman. "It is Meadow Inn. Please go to the
front door."

"All right," Tom agreed good-naturedly. "I'm glad we struck the place