"He mustn't do that," interrupted Betty promptly. "Handkerchiefs is full of germs, and if he gets the germs in his scratches he gets blood poison and dies. You got to wait till you get home, Billy, and then lie on your back on Aunt Eileen's bed, and she'll take clean gauze and soak 'em off in cold water. If you haven't got any gauze handy you can use mine, but you'd better buy some. Billy uses as much as a dollar's worth of gauze in no time." Eileen put her hand over her face, and turned away. The children followed, looking about them in frank interest and pleasure. "Is that a palm tree?" asked Betty. "Billy says God never made 'em grow like that. He says men just tie those fins on top to make 'em look funny. Did God do it, Aunt Eileen? What did He do it for?--Oh, is this your car, Aunt Eileen? Billy knows how to start a car so you better not let him in it by himself." Then as the small boyish shoulders assumed the dreadful hunch, she cried excitedly, "Oh, no, he can't either, honest he can't. He doesn't know what to turn, nor anything. I was joking. You ain't mad at me, are you, Billy?" Eveley slipped silently into her place behind the wheel, and Billy opened the door for his aunt and sister, banged it smartly after their entrance, and climbed in front with Eveley. "They oughtn't to let women drive cars," he said in a judicial tone. "Women is too nervous. There ought to be a law against it." Eveley laughed. "I think so, too," she agreed pleasantly. "But until there is such a law, I think I shall keep on driving." Billy stared at her suspiciously. "You don't need to agree with me to be polite," he said. "It won't hurt my feelings any. I ain't used to it, anyhow." Betty, in the rear seat, cuddled cozily against her rigid aunt and kept up a constant flow of conversation in her pretty chirpy voice. "Are you an old maid? Aunt Agnes said you were. Did you do it on purpose, or couldn't you help yourself? I am not going to be an old maid. I am engaged now. Billy tried to be engaged, too, but Freckle Harvey cut him out." Billy suddenly squared about in his seat, and Betty shivered into a small and terrified heap. "Aw, no, he didn't either. Billy didn't like her worth a cent. He thinks she is just hideous, don't you, Billy? You ain't mad at me, are you, Billy?" When Eveley drew the car up before the big apartment-house on Sixth Street, Billy forgot his temporary burst of manners. With a hoarse shout he slid deftly over the door and dashed up the steps. Shrieking gleefully, Betty followed swiftly in his wake. "Oh, Eveley," faltered Eileen, "I am afraid they scratched the car." She got out hastily, and caught her lips between her teeth as she saw the long jagged scratch on the door where Betty's sharp heel had passed. "Never mind," said Eveley bravely. "It doesn't make a bit of difference. We all know how children are." "I--I didn't," said Eileen weakly. "I--guess I am an old maid. I hadn't realized it."