omething in my voice must have warned her.

She uttered a little "Oh!" and drew away from me. But I leaned toward
her, and spoke her name again.

And just then we struck a hummock on the side of the road, and the
jolt threw me violently against the steering wheel. Margery clutched
at me and held on. We came to a dead stop, and she sank back into the
seat.

For an instant afterward I wavered between saying what it was in my
heart to say and silence. But my pose was not heroic, and, to speak
the entire truth, I was having some difficulty in regaining my breath.
So I got out of the car slowly and explained. Something was wrong with
the machinery, probably a ground wire, broken by the shock. It was
nothing at which to be alarmed. Was she hurt?

She assured me she was not and that alarm was furtherest from her. I
began my investigation, but the broken ground wire was not the only
trouble. It I promptly repaired, and still the engine would not
respond to my cranking. There were spasmodic explosions, but they came
to naught. Nor was the trouble due to any one of the half dozen
primary accidents for which, in turn, I made tests. There was a fine,
fat spark at the plugs, the vibrator buzzed properly, the gasoline
feed appeared to be adequate, the carburettor was performing its duty,
and the engine did not seem to be overheated. The manifest fact was
that the motor would not run. A few irregular beats, I say, I got out
of it by almost winding my arm out of its socket with the crank, only
to have the thing die away before I could regain my seat in the car.
In my desperation I advanced the spark to a point which resulted in a
"back kick" so tremendous that I was nearly thrown into the air.

Margery was patient and sympathetic through it all. She sat very still
and watched me. When at last I came upon the real trouble and she
understood from my pause and silence that I was puzzled by it, she
asked: "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything," I answered.

"Then, take all the time you need. It doesn't matter in the least
about me. I am very comfortable, and only sorry I can't help you."

"But you _do_ help me," I said; "you help me a great deal. If you only
knew how much, you----"

"Tell me about it," she put in quickly--"what it is that has made us
stop."

I obeyed reluctantly. "It is this little spring." I held it up. "You
see, it closes the valve, and the end of it is broken, and the valve
does not act as it should. T