h. There was a slight
gurgling noise occasionally, but the engine refused to start. Geoffrey
stood erect and wiped his forehead. The evening was chilly, but he had
no reason to complain of being cold. The girl sat on her stone at the
side of the road and smoked a fresh cigarette.

"I don't think you'll do much good that way," she said. "I've been at
that for hours."

Geoffrey felt there was, or ought to be a difference between the efforts
of a girl, a slight, rather frail looking girl, and those of a vigorous
young man. He took off his overcoat and tried again, vainly. Then he
opened the throttle wide, and advanced the sparking lever a little.

"If you do that," said the girl, "she'll back-fire and break your
arm--that is to say if she does anything at all, which she probably
won't. She sprained father's wrist last week. That's how I came to be
driving her to-day."

Geoffrey was aware of the unpleasant effects of a back-fire. But he
took the risk without hesitating. Nothing happened. The car, though
obstinate, was not apparently malicious.

"There must be something wrong," he said. "Did you try the sparking
plugs?"

"I had them all out," said the girl, "and cleaned them with a hairpin
and my pocket handkerchief. It isn't worth your while to take them out
again."

Geoffrey fetched a wrench from his own car and began to work on the
sparking plugs.

"I see you don't believe me," said the girl. "But I really did clean
them. Just look."

She held up her pocket handkerchief. It was thickly smeared with soot.
She had certainly cleaned something with it. Geoffrey worked away
steadily with his wrench.

"And the worst of it is," said the girl, "that this is just the sort of
evening on which one simply must blow one's nose. I've had to blow mine
twice since I cleaned the plugs and I expect its awful."

Geoffrey looked up from his work. He had noticed when he first saw her
that her face was very dirty. He knew now where the dirt came from. He
smiled. The girl smiled, too. Her temper was beginning to improve. Then
she sniffed. Geoffrey offered her his pocket handkerchief. She took it
without saying thank you.

The sparking plugs were cleaned very carefully, for the second time.
Then Geoffrey took another turn at the crank handle. He laboured in
vain. The engine did not respond with so much as a gasp.

"The next thing I did," said the girl, "was to take out the commutator
and clean it. But I don't advise you to do t