The smell of burned gasoline affronted the pretty garden.

Wheels revolved savagely among the bruised roots of innocent pansies.

Grandma Dodwell screamed anew.

Then slowly, implacably hesitant, ponderous but determined, the huge bus backed along the track it had so cruelly worn in the sward--out through the gap in the fair fence, over the side-walk and into the road, rocking perilously, but settling level at last.

Thereupon the young hero had done something else with mysterious handles, and the bus glided swiftly on to the depot, making the twelve-two in ample time.
Great moments are vouchsafed only to those souls fortified to survive them.