LITMIR.BIZ

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thus excused his under-handedness and stifled the protests of his better nature he felt, or tried to feel, entirely at peace with the world; and as he now sauntered out to greet the new day he did it as jauntily as if he had nothing to conceal. Already the car was at the door with the luggage aboard and its engine humming invitingly. As the boy listened to the sound he could not but rejoice that the purring monster could tell no tales. How disconcerting it would be should the scarlet devil suddenly shout aloud: "Well, Steve, don't you hope we do not get stalled to-day the way we did going to Torrington?" Mercifully there was no danger of that. The engine might puff and purr and snort but at least it could not talk, and his secret was quite safe. This reflection lighted his face with courage and when the family came out to join him no one would have suspected that the slender boy waiting on the doorstep harbored a thought of anything but anticipation in the prospect of the coming holiday.

      "Is everything in, Steve?" asked his father, approaching with Doris's remaining grip.

      "I think so, Dad," was the reply. "It certainly seems as if I had piled in almost a dozen suitcases."

      "Nonsense, Stevie," pouted Doris. "There were only four."

      "Five, Miss Sophomore!" contradicted her brother. "Five! That one Dad is bringing makes the fifth, and I would be willing to bet that it is yours."

      "That's where you are wrong, Smartie," the girl laughed good-humoredly, making a mischievous grimace at him from beneath the brim of her saucy little toque of blue velvet. "I am not guilty of the extra suitcase. It's mother's."

      "Your mother's!" ejaculated Mr. Tolman incredulously. "Mercy on us! I never knew your mother to be starting out on a short trip with such an array of gowns." Then turning toward his wife, he added in bantering fashion: "Aren't you getting a little frivolous, my dear? If it were Doris now—"

      "But it isn't this time!" interrupted the young lady triumphantly.

      Her mother exchanged a glance with her and they both laughed.

      "No, Henry, I am the one to blame," Mrs. Tolman admitted. "You see, if I am to keep pace with my big son and daughter I must look my best; so I have not only brought the extra suitcase but I am going to be tremendously fussy as to where it is put."

      "I do believe Mater's brought all her jewels with her!" Steve declared wickedly. "Well, she shall have her sunbursts, tiaras, and things where she can keep her eye on them every moment. Suppose I put them down here at your feet, Mother."

      Without further ado, he started to lift the basket suitcase into the car.

      "Don't tip it up, son. Don't tip it up!" cautioned his mother.

      "Your mother is afraid of knocking some of the pearls or emeralds out of their setting," chuckled Mr. Tolman. "Go easy, Steve!"

      A general laugh arose as the offending piece of baggage was stowed away out of sight. An instant later wraps and rugs were bundled in, everybody was cosily tucked up, and Mr. Tolman placed his hands on the wheel.

      "Now we're off, Dad!" cried Stephen, as he sprang in beside his father. Mr. Tolman needed no second bidding.

      There was a whir, a leap forward, and the automobile glided down the long avenue and out into the highway.

      Steve, studying the road map, was too much interested in tracing out the route they were to follow to notice that after the car had spun along smoothly for several miles its speed lessened, and it was not until it came to a complete standstill that he aroused himself from his preoccupation sufficiently to see that his father was bending forward over the starter.

      "What's wrong, Henry?" inquired his wife from the back seat.

      "I can't imagine," was the impatient reply. "Had I not left the tank with gasoline in it, I should say it was empty; but of course that cannot be the case, for I always keep enough in it to carry us to the garage. Otherwise we should be stalled at our own doorstep and not able to get anywhere."

      Climbing out, he began to unscrew the metal top of the tank while Stephen watched him in consternation.

      The boy did not need to hear the result of the investigation for already the wretched truth flashed upon him. The tank was empty; of course it was! He knew that without being told. Had not the workman who had replenished it Wednesday said quite plainly that there was only enough gas in it to get him home to Coventry? He should have remembered to stop at the garage and take on an extra supply on the way back as his father always did. How stupid he had been! In his haste to get home he had forgotten every other consideration and the present dilemma was the result of his thoughtlessness. Yet how could he have stopped at the Coventry garage even had he thought of it? All the men there knew him and his father, and if he had gone there or had even driven through the center of the town somebody would have been sure to see him and mention the incident. Why, it was to avoid this very danger that he had returned by the less frequented way.

      The man in the brown jeans had certainly calculated to a nicety when he measured out that gasoline. He had not meant him to do any more riding that day; that was apparent. What business was it of his, anyway, and why was he so solicitous as to where he went? There was something puzzling about that man. Steve had thought so at the time. Not that it mattered now. All that did matter was that here they were stalled at the side of the road in almost the same spot where he had been stalled the other day; and they were there because he had neglected to procure gasoline.

      The lad felt the hot blood throb in his cheeks. Again the chance for confession confronted him and again his tongue was tied. In a word he could have explained the whole predicament; but he did not. Instead he sat as if stunned, the heart inside him pounding violently. He saw that his father was not only deeply annoyed but baffled to solve the incident.

      "The gas is all out; that's the trouble!" he announced.

      "What are we going to do, Dad?" inquired Doris anxiously.

      "Oh, we can get more all right, daughter," returned her father reassuringly. "Don't worry, my dear. But what I can't understand is how we come to be in such a plight."

      "Doesn't gasoline evaporate, Henry?" suggested Mrs. Tolman.

      "To some extent, yes; but there could be no such shrinkage as this unless there was a leak in the tank. I never dreamed the supply was so low. Well, it is my own fault. I should have made sure everything was right before we started."

      Steve shifted his position uncomfortably. He was manly enough not to enjoy hearing his father shoulder blame that did not rightfully belong to him.

      "Now let me think what we had better do," went on Mr. Tolman. "Unfortunately there isn't a house in sight from which we can telephone for help; and we are fully five miles from Torrington. Our only hope is that some one bound for the town may overtake us and allow Steve to ride to the village for aid."

      "Couldn't I walk it, Dad?" asked the boy, with an impulse to make good the mischief he had done.

      "Oh, no; I wouldn't do that unless the worst befalls," his father replied kindly. "We should gain nothing. It is a long tramp and would simply be a waste of time. Let us wait like Mr. Micawber, and see if something does not turn up."

      Wretchedly Stephen settled back into his seat. He would rather have walked to Torrington, done almost anything rather than remain there in the quiet autumn stillness and listen to the accusations of his conscience. What a coward he was!

      "It is a shame for us to be tied up here!" he heard Doris complain.

      "I know it, daughter, and I am as sorry as you are," responded her father patiently. "In fact, probably, I am more sorry, since it is through my own carelessness that we are stranded."

      Again the impulse to blurt out the truth and take the blame that belonged to him took possession of Stephen; but with resolution he forced it back. Nervously he fingered the road map. If he had only spoken at the beginning! It was harder now. He should have made a clean breast of the whole affair when his father got home from New York. Then was the time to have done it. But since he had let that opportunity pass it was awkward,

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