the bank—"And heads popping out like Jack-in-theboxes, by gee!"
When the curve hid them safely from view they braked to a standstill and held consultation. Presently the occupants of the small tin automobile beheld four young men, pedestrians, coming toward them along the road. At sight of their predicament the pedestrians broke into a run and approached them in great concern, crying, "What's happened? Was there an accident?"
"Somethin' hit us," replied the owner of the machine vaguely. He was a rat-like person, little and frightened-looking, and busily engaged in extricating himself from a seething tangle of arms and legs. He addressed these collectively. "Anybody hurt?" And then individually. "Are you all right, Ma? Mary? All right, Joe? All right, Lucy? How're you, Junior? Where's Tom? All right, huh, well, who's got the baby? Baby all right?"
"The father of his country," whispered Pink to Jock.
When all had been hauled forth and set upright on the road there was found to be nothing amiss except a bump on Junior's forehead and a hole in Mary's stocking, which she lamented as loudly as though she had lost her leg. Ma, a lady twice as big as her biggest child and probably three times as big as Pa, took up the burden of narrative. "We was just comin' along, easy as you please, an' Pa tooted his horn, you did toot your horn, didn't you Pa, he did, an' then first we knew, sudden-like, somethin' hit us an' pushed us into the ditch"
"It was a otterbile!" shrieked Joe. "I seen it—it was a otterbile full of suitcases"
The four young men were all compassion. "Do you mean to tell me," demanded the one with the rosy
