A TRIAL TRIP


Owing to some unexpected delay, the automobile didn't arrive until
Wednesday. But when at last it came whirring up the drive, the assembled
Maynards on the veranda greeted it with shouts of approval.

"Did you ever see such a beauty!" cried Marjorie, as she danced around
the new car, and clambering up on the farther side, jumped over the
closed door, and fell plump into one of the cushioned seats.

"Oh, Mopsy!" cried her father, "that isn't the way to get in."

"I don't care,--I am in! And it's just great in here! Why, there's room
enough for a whole party."

The chauffeur who brought the car seemed a little surprised at the antics
of the children, for he was a stolid Englishman, and not much accustomed
to American exuberance.

Mr. Maynard had engaged him on the best recommendations, and felt sure
that he was a trust-worthy and capable man. His name was Pompton, and he
was large and muscular, with a face that was grave but not ill-natured.

Kingdon made friends with him at once, and climbing up into the seat
beside him, asked innumerable questions about the various parts of the
machine.

"Suppose we go at once for a trial spin," proposed Mr. Maynard, and
almost before he had completed his sentence, a chorus of assent rose in