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The Major went on with his preparations for departure, never doubting that the Manhattan would be ready for him in a few minutes. At last Jimmie turned an oil-smeared face toward Ned. "No use," he exclaimed, "she won't go! The batteries are off and there's something wrong with the carbureter, and the spark-plug is twisted, and the delivery is all to the bad.
Old Blink Broosmore was responsible. It was a malicious thing for him to do. He meant it to be mean, too,—wanted to hurt me,—to wound my feelings and make me ashamed. And all because he nursed a grudge against dad—I mean Mr. Crawford. It started because of that defective spark-plug in the engine of the roadster.
Why, he started with a cracked spark-plug that was spitting like a tom-cat, the carburetor popping from too lean a mixture, and a half filled radiator boiling away merrily. It was stopping to get those things fixed up, and having some air pumped into the spare tire, that made us so late." "You see!" says Barry. "She admits it. Wonderful girl though, Ann.
After recognition of the problem, our next step is to start vigorous efforts to solve it. In doing this, we cast about for means; we summon all the powers at our disposal. In the case of the automobile, we call to mind other accidents and the causes of them; we remember that once the spark-plug played out, so we test this hypothesis.
Crawford—gave me an armful of books to return to the library and a list of errands she wanted me to do. While motoring down town I noticed that one cylinder was missing occasionally and I told myself I would change that spark-plug as soon as I got home. That was in 1911. As I was leaving I looked at my new wrist watch and discovered that it was a quarter of five.
Strange what a tiny thing such as a crack in a porcelain jacket around an old spark-plug can do in the way of changing the course of a fellow’s whole life. My last period in the afternoon at high school was a study period and I cut it because I had several things to do down town. I hurried home and took the roadster, and on my way out mother—I mean Mrs.
The eccentric man was wealthy and his physician had instructed him to ride about in the car for his health. Tom soon located the trouble. The carburetor had become clogged, and it was soon in working order again. "Well, now that you have a boat , I don't suppose you will be riding about the country so much," commented Mr. Damon as he got into his car. "Bless my spark-plug!
It was all very well being able to tell a spark-plug from a commutator at sight, but when it came to a contest in an affair of the heart with a man like Roland, Albert was in his proper place, third at the pole. Probably, if he could have gone on merely being engaged, Roland would never have wearied of the experience.
It was plain that she was an open book to him. "What is the trouble?" said I, with that tone of voice you use in a sick-room. It appeared to be appendicitis. "Spark-plug," muttered the doctor. "Shall I get another?" I asked, half apologetically. "Better," grunted the doctor. I chased down an automobile owner, and a launch owner and a man who had a small pumping-engine.
And while the three of them stood waiting for Nell to back up the Buick and put her spark-plug in her pocket, only Richard calmly took it and put it in his, the rest of the cars came up the hill and turned into the edge of the golden-rod.
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