“Oh, Bunny!  Bunny!  Sure an’ what in the world are ye doin’?” she cried.

“Please don’t make me look at you,” begged Bunny.  “I’ve got to steer straight until I get to the curve and then I’ve got to twist around, an’ that’s very, very hard to do, Mary.  So please don’t interrupt me.”

But Mary had seen enough to cause alarm.  She rushed to the sitting room where Mrs. Brown was looking at a pile of toys Sue had brought down to take on the trip.

“Oh, Mrs. Brown!  Mrs. Brown!  Sure, an’ the likes of a little boy like him runnin’ the big car!  Sure, it’s kilt he’ll be intirely!”

“What do you mean, Mary?”

“What do I mean?  Sure, an’ I mean that Bunny, the darlin’ boy, has gone off in the big movin’ van auto!”

“Bunny in that auto?  Impossible!”

“Look for yourself!” exclaimed Mary, pointing to the window.

At that moment the auto went rolling past, with Bunny at the wheel, as brave as life.

“Bunny Brown!” exclaimed his mother, dashing for the door.

“I—­I got around the curve all right, Momsie!” he shouted in glee, and he raised one hand from the wheel to wave it to her.

But at that instant the auto gave a wobble, and Bunny had to bring his waving hand back on the wheel to keep the car straight.

“Bunny!  Bunny!” cried his mother, running down the drive after the machine.  “Where are you going?”

“I—­I don’t know,” he called back to her.  “The auto got started and I can’t stop it!”

“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Mrs. Brown.  For the seat of the car was very high, and though Bunny had managed to reach it, for he was a good tree-climber, it would hardly have been possible for Mrs. Brown to try to get up with her skirts on and when the auto was moving.  It had been still when Bunny climbed to the seat.

“Oh, Bunny!” wailed his mother.  “Mary!  Telephone for Mr. Brown to come home—­quick!”

“I won’t be hurt!” called Bunny.  “All I’ve got to do is to keep going on around and around and around the driveway until the storage battery gives out.  That’s what’s running the car now.”

“Oh, but you must be stopped,” cried Mrs. Brown, who managed to keep alongside the slowly moving auto.  “You might hit something!”

“I steered out of the way of a tree, all the same,” said Bunny proudly.  “I was ’most going to run into it, but I didn’t.  I ’membered which way to steer.”

“Oh, I’m so frightened,” moaned Mrs. Brown.  Then seeing Bunker Blue coming up the path with a message on which he had been sent by Mr. Brown, Bunny’s mother called to him: 

“Oh, Bunker, stop the auto!  Bunny started it somehow.  He’s ridden nearly all around the drive, but he can’t stop!”

“It’s running on the battery,” said Bunker, after listening a moment to the electric hum.  Then he swung himself up on the seat of the moving car beside Bunny, shut off the electric starter and put on the brakes.