He played with disordered motors and unerringly put them right. But he seemed to lack steadiness of purpose. He would leave an ailing car to help out Sam Pickering, or he would leave for a round of golf with Sharon Whipple, Sharon complaining that other people were nothing but doggoned golf lawyers; and he would insist upon time off at three o'clock each afternoon to give Spike Brennon his work-out. Spike had laboured to develop other talent in Newbern, but with ill success. When you got ‘em learned a little about the game they acted like a lot of sissies over a broken nose or a couple of front teeth out or something.