"How ungrateful, Mollie—most girls would be glad of the chance to ride around in a neat little machine like yours. Why, I'd even be thankful for a tiny runabout."
"There it is now," Mollie said as a motor horn tooted insistently on the drive below. "Don't let's keep them waiting."
"Hello, girls, we'd have been here sooner if Betty hadn't delayed us." It was Frank Haley who spoke, a handsome young fellow, whose merry grey eyes showed that he deserved his name—the first part of it, at least. "Come, 'fess up, Betty," he added, turning to the bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked girl beside him.
"I'm afraid I did keep them waiting, girls—about two minutes," Betty Nelson admitted, then added in defense: "But I couldn't go looking the way I was, you know."
"I don't see why not. I didn't see anything wrong."
"That doesn't prove a single thing, Frank," Grace retorted as he opened the door for the girls. "Boys never do."
"Don't they though?" Frank objected. "Do you mean to say I don't know that that little whatever-you-may-call-it in your hat is quite considerable——"
"Class?" finished Will, who had been busy tucking in the robe about Mollie's feet. "Personally I think we're a pretty fine crowd, take us all together."
"Well, did you ever hear such—Frank, don't you think we'd better get started before he says anything worse?" and Betty turned appealingly to Frank.
"Just as you say," he answered obligingly, and at his words the great car glided noiselessly down the drive and out into the street.