open and the children sprang into
the machine. They were accustomed to helping themselves to everything
that took their fancy; they had inherited the instinct.

Percival turned on the gas. "Hang on to your hair, sis!" he cried, and
he burnt up the road all the way home, capsizing the outfit in front of
the mansion and wrecking the automobile.

Their mamma came slowly down the veranda steps with a strange gentleman
by her side. "These are the children, Edward," she said, picking them
up, uninjured by the spill. "Children, this is your new papa."

The gentleman shook hands with them very pleasantly and said he hoped
that he should be their papa long enough to get really acquainted with
them. At which remark the lady smiled and tapped him with her fan.

And they lived happily, after their fashion, ever afterward.

LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD.

I

Once upon a time there was a little girl who was the prettiest creature
imaginable. Her mother was excessively fond of her, and saw her as
frequently as possible, sometimes as often as once a month. Her
grandmother, who doted on her even more, had made for her in Paris a
little red riding hood of velvet embroidered with pearl passementerie,
which became the child so well that everybody in her set called her
Little Red Riding-Hood.

One day her mother said to her: "Go, my dear, and see how your
grandmother does, for I hear she has been ill with indigestion. Carry
her this filet and this little pot of foie gras."

The grandmother lived in a secluded and exclusive part of the village,
in a marble cottage situated in the midst of a wooded park. Little Red
Riding-Hood got out of the motor when she came to the park, telling the
chauffeur she would walk the rest of the way. She hardly passed the
hedge when she met a Wolf.

"Whither are you going?" he asked, looking wistfully at her.

"I am going to see my grandmother, and carry her a filet and a little
pot of foie gras from my mamma."

"Well," said the Wolf, "I'll go see her, too. I'll go this way and you
go that, and we shall see who will be there first."

The Wolf ran off as fast as he could, and was first at the door of the
marble cottage. The butler informed him that Madame was not at home, but
he sprang through the door, knocking the servant over, and ran upstairs
to Madame's boudoir.

"Who's there?" asked the grandmother, when the Wolf tapped at the door.

"Your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood," replied the