The Lucky Seventh

“Then if Gordon will see to it – ”

“Yes’m, I will. I’ll get Stewart to go after it. I guess he can pull it if he puts a timber under the broken wheel. There wouldn’t be room in your stable for it, would there?”

“Yes, there would,” replied Louise. “There’s lots of room in the carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring it here, Gordon.”

“All right. That would be the best thing, I guess. Stewart would probably charge storage for it if he kept it at his stable. I suppose he will want quite a little money to haul it in, too.”

“Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you mind attending to it? It’s awfully nice of you to take so much trouble for us. You’ll begin to think we’re a pretty bothersome family, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to, Louise. I wish you’d remember me to Morris, please. I – I’ll call and see him some time after he’s able to have visitors. Is there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?”

“I think not, Gordon. You’ve done so much already – ”

“I couldn’t have done any less,” murmured Gordon hurriedly, fearing that Mrs. Brent was about to express her gratitude again. “Folks – folks made more of it than it – really amounted to. I guess I’ll go and see Stewart. I hope Morris will get along finely and – and everything.”

“I suppose,” he said, after he had bade good-bye to Mrs. Brent, “you won’t get over to the Point for some time, Louise.”

“No, not for a month, probably. I don’t mind a great deal. The main thing is to get Morris well again. It’s going to be terribly dull and stupid for him, Gordon.”

“Fierce!” They had paused at the gate. “If there’s anything I can do, or anything any of us can do, Louise – ”

“Not now, but you can do a lot later,” she replied smilingly. “You can come and see him and cheer him up in a day or two. Will you?”

“Of course! Glad to! And I’ll bring the other fellows, too.”

“I guess there aren’t very many others, are there?”

“Many others?” he asked.

“Many others who would care to come, I mean. Morris doesn’t seem to have very many boy friends, does he?”

“Why, I don’t know. I guess every fellow likes Morris – ”

“Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when you can, Gordon. Good-bye. I’ll tell Ryan to get a place ready for the automobile.”

His way to Stewart’s stable led him past Lanny’s house and he slowed down as he reached the gate and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.

“Come on over to Stewart’s stable with me,” commanded Gordon.

“Can’t.” Lanny exhibited the chain. “Chain’s busted. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I think I’ll have to take it to the shop.”

“Bring it along, then, and we’ll walk. I’ll stick my wheel back of the fence here. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

“All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off my hands. It won’t take a minute.” As a matter of fact, it took five, and Gordon was established comfortably on the horse-block in front of the gate when Lanny returned. Together they went on along B Street and turned into River Street, talking very earnestly all the way and more than once pausing stock-still on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of conversation was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both interested and enthusiastic, and at last, just before their halting progress landed them outside the livery stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon’s shoulder.

“It’s a peach of a scheme!” he declared. “Does he know anything about it?”

Gordon shook his head. “I just thought of it awhile ago, after I’d seen him. I don’t think we’d better say anything to him about it, Lanny, because he’d probably refuse.”

“That’s so. The best way is to go ahead and do it – and tell him afterward.” Lanny chuckled. “The other fellows will have to know, though.”

“Yes, but we’ll make them promise not to talk. Gee, if I don’t hurry that automobile will stay out another night, I guess!”

But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses that could be at once dispatched on the errand and the two boys waited while the expedition made ready. Mr. Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally superintend the project. Afterward Gordon went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop and waited while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later in the afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with Fudge, who had joined them meanwhile, rode over to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past five and was rolled into a corner of the big carriage-house. Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge took stock of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front axle was bent. It didn’t require an expert to determine that much. For the rest, barring a broken lantern and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator, the car was as good as new so far as they could see.

“I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see if the engine is all right,” said Gordon. “But I don’t see how anything can be wrong there, do you?”

“No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before,” said Lanny. “How much do you suppose it will cost to fix it up?”

Gordon shook his head. “Maybe thirty dollars,” he said finally. “What do you think?”

“Bet it will be nearer a hundred,” said Fudge. “Repairs on automobiles cost like anything.”

“Fudge knows,” remarked Lanny. “His repair bills are something frightful, aren’t they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day, Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!”

“Th-that’s all right,” sputtered Fudge. “I’ve heard Mr. T-T-Turner say th-th-that – ”

“Of course you have,” agreed Gordon soothingly. “By the way, Lanny, heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda fountain.”

“That s-s-s-s-so?” laughed Lanny.

“Yes. Can’t you see Fudge, with a white apron on, leaning across the counter asking, ‘What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?’”

“‘S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,’” responded Lanny.

“‘S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we’re all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We’ve got s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.’”

“Oh, dry up,” said Fudge, with a grin. “If you fellows come around there I’ll p-p-poison you!”

“Well, come on, fellows, it’s supper time,” said Lanny. “Don’t you take that car out and go ‘joy riding,’ Mr. Ryan.”

“Huh!” growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with deep pessimism. “I wouldn’t touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How do I know it won’t be blowin’ me up some fine night?”

“It won’t if you treat it kindly,” Fudge assured him. “Give it plenty of oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it’ll be as quiet as a lamb.”

They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and got on their wheels. “Who will you get to look at it?” asked Lanny as they rolled homeward.

“I don’t know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I’ll have to talk with Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won’t come to anything.”

“What won’t?” asked Fudge suspiciously.

“Never you mind, son. It’s something that doesn’t concern little boys.”

“Go on and tell me,” begged Fudge. “Is it a secret?”

“It wouldn’t be if you knew it,” answered Gordon unkindly.

“I’d like to know when I ever blabbed anything,” exclaimed Fudge indignantly. “Didn’t I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week before anyone else did? And didn’t I – ”