“I’m glad she had the ride,” said Marjorie, thoughtfully; “and of course it wasn’t her fault that the morning turned out as it did.”

“No, it wasn’t,” said King, “and it wasn’t our fault either!  It wasn’t anybody’s fault; it just happened.”

“And now it happens that it’s all over,” said his father, still insistently cheerful, “and the incident is closed, and it’s past history, and we’ve all forgotten it.  Have some more chicken, King?”

“Yes,” said King, “these forgotten experiences make a fellow terribly hungry!”

The subject of the morning’s disaster was not again referred to, and Mr. Maynard triumphantly succeeded in his determination to eliminate all thought of it.

By two o’clock Pompton was at the door with the car, and they started gaily off to continue their journey.

Mr. Maynard sat in front with the chauffeur, and if they indulged in some whispered conversation it was not audible to those in the tonneau.

Midget and King themselves had quite recovered their good spirits, and were ready to enjoy the ride through the country.

They went rather fast, as they had started a bit later than they intended, but not too fast to enjoy the scenery or the interesting scenes on either side.

On they went, through towns and villages, past woods and meadows, and up and down moderately high hills.  As they neared Morristown, where Grandma Sherwood lived, the hills were higher and the views more picturesque.

It was not yet dusk when they reached Grandma Sherwood’s house, and they found the wide gate hospitably open for them.  They swung into the driveway, and in another moment they saw Grandma and Uncle Steve on the veranda, waiting to welcome them.

The impetuous Maynard children tumbled out of the car all at once, and fairly swarmed upon their relatives.

“Which is which?” cried Uncle Steve.  “Kitty has grown as big as Marjorie was,—­and Marjorie has grown as big as King was,—­and King has grown as big as,—­as a house!”

“And me growed!” cried Rosamond, not wanting to be left out of the comparison.

“You’re the biggest of all!” exclaimed Uncle Steve, catching the baby up and seating her on his shoulder, so she could look down on all the others.

“Yes, me biggest of all,” she declared, contentedly, as she wound her fat arms around Uncle Steve’s neck; “now me go see schickens!”

“Not just now, Rosy Posy,” said her mother, “let’s all go in the house and see what we can find there.”

Easily diverted, the baby went contentedly with her mother, but the mention of chickens had roused in the other children a desire to see the farmyard pets, and King said:  “Come on, Mops and Kit, let’s us go and see the chickens; come on, Uncle Steve.”

“Eliza first!” cried Marjorie, remembering the old cook’s friendliness toward them all; “come on!”

Following Midget’s lead, the trio went tearing through the house to the kitchen.