He threw down the book, to watch the absorbed young mechanic who was frankly puzzled but still hopeful.
"It's an autopsy," said Sharon.

He fled again, in the buggy drawn by the roan.

"A fool and his money!" he called from the sagging seat.
The second day passed with the parts still spread about the floor.

Elihu Titus told Sharon the boy was only playing with them.

Sharon said he was glad they could furnish amusement, and mentally composed the beginning of what would be a letter of withering denunciation to the car's maker.
But the third day the parts were unaccountably reassembled.