“Oh, thank you! Isn’t this wonderful?” he said, taking a piece eagerly. “But I’m afraid I must eat and run. I’m taking my chief’s aunt and her grandchild down to the train, and mustn’t delay. I just stopped to say that I’m leaving for the mountains tomorrow afternoon about three o’clock, and will stop here for Harry. Do you think that will be too early for him?” “Oh, no, indeed. He can come home from school at noon and be all ready for you. It is wonderful of you to take him. He has talked of nothing else since you were here, and father and I appreciate your kindness, I’m sure.” “No kindness about it. It will be great to have a kid along. I hate to go anywhere alone. Say, this gingerbread is luscious! No, really I mustn’t take another bite. I must go this minute. I’ve left my engine going, and the lady is inclined to be easily annoyed. I—” He happened to look up at that moment and saw to his horror that his car had begun to move slowly on down the hill. The child on the front seat had been doing things to the brakes and clutch. She had no idea what she was doing, but she always did things to everything in sight. If it was an electric bulb, she unscrewed it; if it was openable, she opened it; if it was possible to throw anything out of gear, she always could be depended upon to throw it. She was that kind of a child. She once threw a pair of heavy sliding doors off the track and almost down upon her, and was saved from a timely death only by the presence of some elderly rescuer. Had Maxwell known the child, he never would have left her alone in that front seat. She had wriggled herself into the driver’s seat, and her fat hands were manipulating the wheel. As the car began to move she gave a shout of horrid glee. A scream from the woman on the back seat, and Maxwell turned sick with the thought of the possibilities, and sprang down the wall toward the street. But, quick as he was, Brand and Carey were ahead of him. At the very first sound, even before the car had been really in motion, Carey looked up over the wall he was building, gave a low whistle, and cried: “Hey there! Brand! Your car! Get a hustle!” Brand turned, and needed not an explanation. He dashed across the intervening space to his own car, sprang to the driver’s seat, and was off. Carey, though handicapped by the wall he had to leap over, was scarcely a hair’s breadth behind, and alighted on the running-board after the car had started. “We’ve got to catch her before she reaches the corner,” he shouted above the noise of the racing engine. “There’s a trolley coming around the curve at the foot of the hill, and you can’t tell what that kid’ll do. It’s a cinch she never ran a car before; look at her wabble. She’s getting scared now. Look! The fool in the back seat has dragged her away from the wheel! Hey there! Give her plenty of room! Now curve her around, and give me space to jump her!”