"He hasn't thrown in the gear—that's one good thing," exclaimed Grace. "He doesn't know how——"
She paused, for from the car came a laugh of childish delight, and a change in the sound of the motor told that something new had occurred.
"He has the gear in now!" cried Betty.
She was running diagonally across the lawn, trying to intercept the car. In her mind it was plain what had happened.
Paul had, with the impishness of childhood, climbed up in the auto. It was a simple matter to even blunder on pushing the button that would set the self-starter in operation. The car had been left standing on a level bit of road, but, just ahead of it, was a rather steep slope. Mollie had neglected to leave the emergency brake set, and when the motor started there was vibration enough to send the car over the little space that separated it from the slope. Then it simply rolled down. That was what had happened first.
But now had entered a new complication.
It seemed that Paul had a tricycle, worked by foot pedals and hand levers, and he was quite expert in its use. He had now put into practice what had been told him about his toy, and had added his observations of Mollie's operation of her car.
After starting the motor Paul had somehow managed to slip in the low gear, and the marvel of it was that he knew enough to disengage the clutch while he did this. Afterward he told how he had heard the demonstrator impress many times on Mollie the need of doing so.
"Oh, we'll never get him now!" cried Mollie, as she realized that the auto was moving under power now, and not merely by momentum. "Oh, Paul!"
The child was actually steering—the girls could see that, for the auto swerved in and out, narrowly missing the curbstone, as he turned and twisted the wheel too much.