"Now," said Mr. Maynard, "we'll play something less wearing on the intellect. This is called the motor-car game, and you must all sit in a row. Kingdon, you're the chauffeur, and when chauffeur is mentioned, you must make a 'chuff-chuff' sound like starting the machine. Dick, you're the tire, and when tire is said, you must make a fearful report like an explosion of a bursting tire. Dorothy, you're the number, and when number is mentioned, you must say six-three-nine-nine-seven." "What am I, Father?" said impatient Kitty. "Oh, you're the man that they run over, and you must groan and scream. Marjorie, you're the speed limit, and you must cry, 'Whiz! Zip!! _Whizz!!!_' Gladys, you're the dust. All you have to do is to fly about and wave your arms and hands, and sneeze. Rosy Posy, baby, you're the horn. Whenever father says _horn_, you must say 'Toot, toot!' Will you?" "Ess. Me play game booful, me an' Boffin; we say, 'Toot, toot!'" "Now," went on Mr. Maynard, "I'll tell the story and when any of you are mentioned you must do your part. Then if I say automobile, you must all do your parts at once. Ready now: Well, this morning I started out for a ride and first thing I knew my tire burst." A fearful "Plop!" from Dick startled them all, and then the game went on. "I feared I was exceeding the speed-limit [much puffing and whizzing from Marjorie], and as I looked back through the dust [great cloud of dust represented by Gladys' pantomime] I saw I had run over a man!" The awful groans and wails from Kitty were so realistic that Mr. Maynard himself shook with laughter. "I sounded my horn----" "Tooty-toot-toot!" said Rosy Posy, after being prompted by Kingdon. "But as I was my own chauffeur"--here Kingdon's representation of a starting motor quite drowned the speaker's voice--"I hastened on before they could even get my number." "Eight-six-eleven-nine," cried Dorothy, quite forgetting the numbers she had been told. But nobody minded it, for just then Mr. Maynard said, "And so I went home with my automobile." At this everybody turned up at once, and the dust cloud flew about, and the man who was run over groaned fearfully, and tires burst one after another, and the horn tooted, until Mr. Maynard was really obliged to cry for mercy, and the game was at an end. The afternoon, too, was nearly at an end, and so quickly had it flown that nobody could believe it was almost six o'clock! But it was, and it was time for the picnic to break up, and for the little guests to go home. It had stopped raining, but was still dull and wet, so the raincoats were donned again, and, with their beautiful baskets of candies wrapped in protecting tissue papers, Gladys and Dorothy and Dick clambered into Mr. Maynard's carriage and were driven to their homes. "Good-bye!" they called, as they drove away. "Good-bye, all! We've had a _lovely_ time!"