"Ruthie!" shrieked Helen Cameron, fairly throwing herself from the automobile into Ruth's arms. "It is she! It is her! It is her owniest, owniest self!"
"Hold on," said the second occupant of the automobile tonneau, alighting more heavily. "Leave a bit for me to fall on, Nell."
"Don't you dare, Heavy Stone!" cried Ruth. "If you fell upon my frailness——"
"Hush! Tell it not in Gath," cried Jennie sepulchrally. "I have lost flesh—positively."
"Yes," agreed Helen, quite dramatically. "She barked her knuckle. Every little bit counts with Heavy, you know."
Ruth welcomed the plump girl quite as warmly as she did her own particular chum. Immediately the military automobile rolled away. The visitors both carried handbags.
"How did you come to get here—and where under the sun will you stay?" Ruth demanded again.
"Now, never mind worrying about us, Martha," Jennie Stone returned. "We will get along very well. Isn't there a hotel?"
"A hotel? In Clair?" gasped the girl of the Red Mill. "I—should—say—not!"
"Very well, dear; we'll put up wherever you say," said Helen airily. "We know you are always a favorite wherever you go, and you must have loads of friends here by this time."