outside. The loud puffing of an automobile could be heard, but mingled with it was the crash of wood, and then the whole house seemed jarred and shaken.
"Is it an earthquake?" exclaimed Mr. Swift, springing to his feet, and rushing to the library windows.
"Something's happened!" cried Tom.
"Maybe an explosion of the airship gas!" yelled Mr. Sharp, making ready to run to the balloon shed. But there was no need. The crashing of wood ceased, and, above the puffing of an auto could be heard a voice exclaiming:
"Bless my very existence! Bless my cats and dogs! Good gracious! But I never meant to do this!"
Tom, his father and Mr. Sharp rushed to the long, low windows that opened on the veranda. There, on the porch, which it had mounted by way of the steps, tearing away part of the railing, was a large touring car; and, sitting at the steering wheel, in a dazed sort of manner, was Mr. Wakefield Damon.
"Bless my shirt studs!" he went on feebly. "But I have done it now!"
"What's the matter?" cried Tom, hastening up to him. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Hurt? Not a bit of it! Bless my moonstone!
