I could see at once that if I didn't treat them both as a couple of unruly children there was going to be still worse trouble in the future. So I wrested the machine from Gran'pa, overcame my own desire to test it, and wheeled it quickly towards the coal-house, while Molly and the old man followed ruefully and protestingly behind. Only when the thing was safely garaged and under lock and key did I once more feel at ease. "You're acting in a very high-handed manner, George," said Gran'pa. "It is necessary!" "Tut--tut!" "It's not 'tut-tut'!" I snapped, completely losing my temper. "This is my house and my garden--and my child. I won't have them publicly disgraced and demoralized by such clownish antics. Do try and be a reasonable person and think of your dignity--even if you won't think of mine." He grew calmer and more docile at that. He even performed the unnerving ceremony of apologizing. "That's all right," I answered, hurriedly. "Let's get in the house and hide. I feel that every eye in the Avenue is on this place. We're visible even from here." He glanced up at the bedroom windows of the two neighboring houses, and at last retreated through the kitchen door. In the sheltered security of my own dining-room I sought further information on this strange outbreak of second childhood. With a look of the utmost parental severity, I checked Molly's excited flow of questions and ordered her either to leave the room or to be quiet. Seeing that I was roused and angry, she tactfully obeyed, and sat down on the edge of a chair, staring at Gran'pa in wide-eyed admiration and amazement. I turned and faced him. "I think you'll admit . . ." I began, sternly. "I won't admit anything, George, if you're going to adopt that lecturing attitude. Give it up! It irritates me. Is it a lifelong habit or have you acquired it only since _I_ came to live with you?" With a thoughtful and ominous precision, I filled my pipe and lit it. "Thank you!" said Gran'pa, extending his hand. "I beg your pardon!" I replied, frigidly giving him my pouch. "Now, George!" For five or six more awful seconds I kept my face straight and dignified. Then I gave way. I couldn't help it. I laughed--and laughed--and laughed. That vision of Gran'pa, coming down the Avenue on his scooter, reminded me of a performing ape, I had once seen, careering round the Coliseum stage on a tiny motor cycle. I thought of the face of the Baptist minister's wife, three doors further down the street. I thought of the patch of oily messiness on the pavement outside. And I thought of all the serious nonsense we had gone through to bring about this sudden spurt of venturesomeness in poor old Gran'pa. "Why--_did_ you--do it?" I gurgled. "Come, come, George! Do pull yourself together." I quietened down a little and wiped my eyes. "Have you been properly discharged?" I asked. "Or is it an escape?" Gran'pa didn't like the last word. He lit his pipe and puffed at it, furiously.