He placed his right foot on board, pulled a lever, pushed off with his left foot, and away he went, with a quick little "_chug-chug-chug_." Where the gooseberry bushes bordered the narrow path, he swerved a little, and again where the celery beds lay on each side of him like newly-dug graves, but, save for these two temporary diversions, he kept a straight and steady course until he reached the fowl-run at the extreme end of the garden. There he suddenly turned at right angles and disappeared. I looked at Molly, who had been standing spellbound and inarticulate by my side. To me, Gran'pa's antics had been an annoying revelation of puerile activity, but to Molly they had been a sheer miracle of delight. A motor scooter alone would have entranced her; so would a rejuvenated great-great-grandfather. The combination of the two, however, had simply paralyzed her. She was in a wonderful present, but at the same time, the little minx evidently had her mind's eye on a still more wonderful and fruitful future. "_Daddy!_" she exclaimed breathlessly. I turned a sad and disillusioned face to her. "Isn't it simply _scrumptious_!" she continued with unabated enthusiasm. "It's very undignified for a man of his age and respectability--bringing shame on his relations like this." "You aren't really angry, Daddy?" "I'm more than angry. I can see red--scarlet!" "_Chug-chug-chug_," I heard in the distance. Then a single, clear-cut: "_Bang!_" Then silence. "If he's run into those Buff Orpington's," I cried, "there'll be a murder committed!" But no! Gran'pa had evidently stopped his machine merely to turn round and start on the homeward journey again. "_Pop-pop-pop!_" Then that quiet, steady "_Chug-chug-chug_" once more, and the ungodly contrivance came spinning round the corner and up the garden path at a good ten to twelve miles an hour. "It--goes--fine!" panted Gran'pa as he alighted by our side. "Suppose we garage it in the coal-house," I suggested, dully. "Then we might go indoors and leave the neighbors in peace." I motioned in the direction of five or six back bedroom windows, behind whose curtains we saw the dim outlines of a score of curious faces peering down on us. "The scullery or kitchen would be much cleaner and better," said Gran'pa. I glared at him with awful severity. "Do you want Nanny to give notice?" I inquired. "Not at all! Not at all! A very capable woman. A bit fractious at times, perhaps. . . . But I don't see how she can object to a little thing like this. . . ." "Oh! Don't you? Very well! Try her! I wash my hands of the whole affair." Then Molly joined in. _She_ wanted to scoot! Naturally, she did! It was excusable at her immature age. But I was adamant. "No!" I said. "Go indoors, Molly, at once!" "But--Daddy. . . ." "No 'buts'! Do as I tell you. We've had quite enough excitement for one day." "A little run down the garden wouldn't hurt her, George," pleaded Gran'pa.