"Oh," groaned everybody, quite overcome by the calamity.
Nan was the first to recover herself.
"There's only one thing to do," she said; "we must go around and pick up as many guests as we can in a hurry. It won't do to let all this nice garden-party go to waste. Bob and I will take the runabout, and Bumble, you and Patty can take the trap, and we'll scour the country as far as possible."
In a few minutes the two turnouts dashed away in opposite directions, and all the near-by neighbors were bidden to come to the garden-party at once.
Much laughter and fun was caused by the sudden and peremptory invitations, which were, for the most part, gladly accepted.
When the guests finally arrived, the party was a grand success, though of much smaller proportions than was originally intended. The gayly-lighted veranda was a fine place for dancing and games, and supper, served in the tent, was very novel and attractive.
As Nan said, after the party was over, "It was just perfect, except that we couldn't invite the ones that lived at any distance."
But Uncle Ted said, "Never mind, we'll have another party, and invite them; and I'll see to mailing the invitations myself."
"Oh, ho," laughed Nan, "then we needn't even get ready for the party, for you'll never remember to post them."
At which Uncle Ted called her a saucy minx, and sent them all to bed.