So Mrs. Humphrey got out of the car and hurried to the shop. It is hardly likely that she had made such a purchase before—certainly not often, for when she got into the shop she scarcely knew what to buy, or how much the girls could eat. Of course they would be hungry—she bought four boxes of crackerjack and five cones; that amount simply because that seemed to be all she could carry, and went back to the car. "Can you help me?" she asked as she found herself too loaded down to step comfortably into her car. Mary Jane was on that side and she reached out and took the boxes of crackerjack while Mrs. Merrill took the cones. "Where’s Higgins’s crackerjack?" asked Mary Jane making a hasty count. "What did you say, dear?" asked Mrs. Humphrey who thought her ears must have deceived her, "Higgins’ what?" "Higgins’s crackerjack," repeated Mary Jane, "you’ve got a cone for everybody and only four boxes of crackerjack. Doesn’t Higgins like crackerjack?" "I really—why—" Mrs. Humphrey was so amazed that for the minute she couldn’t think of anything to say. _Higgins_ and crackerjack! "Never mind," said Mary Jane, thinking to comfort her hostess, "there’s plenty of ice cream and he can have half of my crackerjack—I’d be glad to divide it." Before either Mrs. Merrill or Mrs. Humphrey could interfere, Mary Jane had slipped from her chair and was hospitably passing the cones to the dignified chauffeur. Never did a man look more insulted! He, Higgins, to eat an ice cream cone while on duty and in his best uniform! Perish the thought! But a glance at Mary Jane’s kindly smile changed his answer and instead of frowning no without a word as he meant to, he smiled and said, "Thank you kindly, miss, but I must give all my attention to the wheel." "Well, don’t worry," said Mary Jane, "I’ll eat it then." And she did. *A DAY IN PLYMOUTH* When Mary Jane stepped off the train in the little town of Plymouth the next morning, she expected to see the famous Plymouth Rock the very first thing. Instead, she saw a modern station with its line of autos, surreys and wagons drawn up along the side and a parkway stretching away toward the hill. "Where do they keep the rock?" she asked her mother. "Goodness only knows!" laughed Mrs. Merrill. "Don’t expect me to know _everything_, honey. But I do know they have it around here somewhere." "Oh, Mother," cried Alice, "look at that darling pony! Couldn’t we get that man to drive us around some place? I’d adore to have that pony pull me!" Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane liked the idea too, so they engaged the driver of a quaint little pony cart to take them around the village.