Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1912-07-18

takes the admired girl out to dinner
for the first time.
81 missed the. train, yesterday" he
remarked. II suppose you. had no
trouble getting the car here"
"None at ALL" Floyd confirmed. 81
fancied you accepted Miss Carlisle's
invitation to drive"
81 did, afterward. It was her car
cranked with the spark forward"
Floyd glanced up. ripple of incred-
ulous amusement crossing his gray
eyes, but he said nothing.
AT least, set the spark as be-
lisved right" Stanton amplified, watch
ing the effect, "and when l cranked,
the motor fired over. The person who
sat next to me said / left the spark
wrong"
The incredulity died out of Floyd's
gaze, but the wonder increased.
more likely it was changed after
you left 1t, perhaps by mistake" he
suggested.
In a flash of recollection Stanton
saw Valerie Carlisle's little gloved
hand dart toward the steering wheel,
just before he pulled up the crank.
Could she have moved the sector, and
have corrected her mistake an instant
too late? He remained silent, nor did
Floyd pursue the question.
When the first course Of the lunch
con was placed before them, Stanton
aroused himself. Quite Indifferent to
the walters panied disapproval, he
took the carafe Of ice-water and him
self filled two glasses.
rs this your substitute for cock
tails?" he queried, and pushed one Of
the goblets over to Floyd.
Startled, Floyd yet understood,
smiling as he looked across.
"Yes," he assented, and drank the
innocent pledge. Motorists both,
there was no question of a stronger
beverage.
Stanton turned to the waiter
"You can go; I'll ring when We want
you. Did you ever drive an Atalanta
Six-sixty, Floyd?"
mo, but I've handled their fours. I
like six cylinder machine, myself; 1t
has so fine torQue-
The conversation plunged into pro-
fessional technicalities; the senti-
mental episode was pushed aside.
People going in and out of the res
taurant stared interestedly at the two
exchanging comments and questions.
Stantons dark face was well-known,
and face not easily forgotten, while
his companions dress sufficiently
identified him as one of the racers
who held the city's attention during
the motor carnival.
When the dessert was before them,
sonal note.
How did you become a finished
automobile expert by the age of TWEEN
ty-one?" he questioned bluntly.
We'll, l believe you are only five
or six years older" Floyd countered,
with a touch of whimsical sadness.
But grew up in an automobile fac
tory. had no mother, no kinswomen
at all, and my father made me his
constant companion. He taught me
everything he knew, and newell, he
was Edgar T. Floyd, who owned the
Comet automobile plant, and who de-
signed and built and raced his own
cars"
Stanton gasped. Where had his
memory been, not to recall the name
Of Floyd? A multitude of confused
recollections rushed across his mind,
Of that famous manufacturer and
racer for sheer love of the sport, of
his death in a railroad wreck, the
previous year.
''He tied me in his car" continued
Floyd, with shadowy smile, when l
was too young to be trusted to hold
on. IF you are going to take my me-
chanicians seat, Jes,' he said to me,
you have got to do my mechanician's
work And by the time l was fifteen,
l could. We used to race with the
chief car tester, for combination train
ing, on mile practice track around
the factory. l held the wheel myself
at seventy-five miles an hour, before
l was seventeen. And he took me
with him, as spectator, to every big
race here and some abroad. OF course
he was training me to take charge Of
the manufacturing business with him,
not for racing myself. But, somehow
affairs went wrong. When he died,
eighteen months ago, everything col
lapsed and l found nothing left. The
factory itself is tied up in a lawsuit; l
may get that out of the ruin; build
ings full of silent machinery have no
capital to use, and no heart to SELL"
There was pause.
81 wonder" Stanton unused slowly,
"why you volunteered to act as my
mechanician that night?"
Floyd's gray eyes flashed to meet
his, all his color and animation rush
ing back.
because I love the racing, I love
it," he answered, impulsively frank. 81,
I've got my fathers blood in my veins
and the frail physique of a useless girl
cant you see how they fight? The
very smell OF exhaust gas makes my
VI ir,,r ond r,,41cae