They passed through the battle zone, and into a strip of country
where pine woods flourished on a sandy soil. The fragrant breath
of sun-warmed balsam came down about them, and Miss Chuff let out
the motor as though to escape from the scene of carnage they had
just witnessed.

"Whither are we bound?" asked the editor, with pardonable
curiosity, as their tires hummed over a smooth road.

"Cana, New Jersey," said Miss Chuff, "where poor Quimbleton is in
hiding. He is in very sore straits. He narrowly escaped capture
after the parade the other day. I managed to get him smuggled out
of the city in the same ambulance that carried Father's horse. The
horse was drunk and Quim was sober. Wasn't that an irony of fate?
But I promised to tell you how I became associated with the
Happiness Corporation."





CHAPTER V

THE TREACHERY OF MISS CHUFF


My story," said Miss Chuff, as the car slid along the road, "is
rich in pathos. My father, as you can imagine, is an impossible
man to live with. My poor mother was taken to an asylum years ago.
Her malady takes a curious form: she is never violent, but spends