"_She_ knows whose beads they are," laughed Jean. "I can't teach her a single Christian virtue," sighed Mrs. Crane. "There isn't one unselfish hair in that child's head." "She's too young," encouraged Bettie. "All babies are little savages." "Not Anne Halliday," said Jean, who fairly worshiped her small cousin. "That's different," said Marjory. "Anne was born with manners." "The little Tuckers weren't," soothed Bettie. "Rosa Marie will be generous enough in time." "I wish I could believe it," sighed Mrs. Crane. "Hi, hi! What's all this racket?" cried Mr. Black from the doorway. "Is Rosa Marie doing all that talking? Get your things on quick, all of you, and come for a ride with me." "A ride!" exclaimed Mrs. Crane. "What in?" "An automobile," returned Mr. Black, turning to wink comically at Bettie. "An automobile!" echoed Mrs. Crane. "I'd like to know whose. There's only one in town and I don't know the owners." "Yours," twinkled Mr. Black. "It's your birthday present." "How did you know that this was the day?" "Perhaps I remembered," said Mr. Black, smiling rather tenderly at his old sister. "You _used_ to have them on this day." "I do still," beamed Mrs. Crane. "That's why I invited the girls; they're my birthday party. But what's this about automobiles?" "Only one. It's yours." "Peter Black! I don't believe you." "Look out the hall window." Everybody rushed to the big window in the front hall. Sure enough! A splendid motor car stood at the gate. "Peter," faltered Mrs. Crane, "have I _got_ to ride in that? I've never set foot in one, and I'm sure I'd be scared to at this late day." "What! Not ride in your own automobile? Bless you, Sarah, in another week you'll refuse to stay out of it. Get your things on, everybody; and warm ones, too. Find extra wraps for these girls, Sarah. There's room for everybody but Rosa Marie." "Now, isn't that just like a man?" said Mrs. Crane, looking about helplessly. "Whose clothes does he think you're going to wear for 'extra wraps'? His, or mine?" Everybody laughed, for obviously Mr. Black's house was a poor one in which to find little girls' garments. "We'll stop at your houses," said he, "and pick up some duds. Besides, perhaps your mothers might like to know that you've been kidnaped. What! no hat on yet? Here, pin this on," said Mr. Black, handing Mrs. Crane a pink dust-cap. "I can't wait all day." "Mercy! That's not a bonnet," cried Mrs. Crane, scurrying away. "I'll be ready in two minutes." CHAPTER XV An Unexpected Treat "PETER," demanded Mrs. Crane, stopping short on the horse-block, "who's going to run that thing?" "I am." "Not with me in it. You don't know how." "My dear, I've been learning the business for five weeks." "So _that's_ what has taken you to Bancroft every afternoon for all that time?" "That's exactly what," admitted Mr. Black. "And you're _sure_," queried Mrs. Crane, doubtfully, "that you understand all those fixings?" "Every one of them."