air and the fast speeding motor,
the four young Maynards were in a state of hilarity. They sang and they
shouted and they laughed, and often they would grab each other with
affectionate squeezes from sheer joy of living.

"I guess we couldn't let old Mopsy go out of this bunch!" exclaimed King,
as with a clever agility he pulled off both Midget's hair-ribbons at
once.

This called for retaliation, and in a flash, Marjorie tweaked off his
necktie.

Nobody knew exactly the particular fun in this performance, for it only
meant an immediate readjustment of the same ribbons, but it was a
frequent occurrence, and usually passed unnoticed.

"And old Mopsy couldn't stay away from this bunch, either," returned
Marjorie, in response to her brother's remark. "Why, if I just tried it,
I'm sure it would kill me!"

"I'm sure so, too," agreed Kitty. "We just have to have each other all
the time, _we_ do! Oh, Mops, there are some marshmallows; mayn't we get
some, Mother?"

Sure enough, the big pink blooms showed on the marshmallow bushes, and in
a minute the children had scrambled out to get some.

It was a muddy performance, for marshmallows have a way of growing in
very swampy places, but the little Maynards didn't mind that, or at
least, they didn't stop to think whether they did or not. Splash and
paddle they went into the mud, but they succeeded in getting several of
the beautiful flowers, and returned with them in triumph.

"Those are fine specimens," said Mr. Maynard, "but I can't possibly let
those six muddy shoes get into this car that Pompton keeps so beautifully
clean! Would you mind walking on to New Haven?"

The three looked at their shoes, and discovered that they were simply
loaded with mud. Even when wiped off on the grass, they presented a most
untidy appearance.

But King came to his sisters' rescue.

"I'll tell you what," he said. "You girls take off your shoes as you get
in, and I'll take off mine as I get in, and then I'll take some
newspaper, and polish them all up."

This really was a good idea, and King worked diligently away until he had
rubbed the muddy shoes into a fair state of civilization.

Mr. Maynard, as he often did, composed a song for the occasion, and after
once hearing it, the children took up the strain and sang heartily:

"Old King Cole
Rubbed a muddy old sole
And a muddy old sole rubbed he;
For he polished each shoe
Of his sisters two,
And his own shoes, they made three!