“Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see a man?” chanted Bess.
“Three of them,” replied Belle, “and they’re coming like all possessed. I’m almost sure it’s Jack that’s driving. There, one of them has taken out a handkerchief and is waving it!”
“It’s them,” pronounced Belle a moment later, forgetting her grammar in her excitement, and scrambling back into her seat again. “Now, Cora, it’s up to you to show them what the Motor Girls can do.”
“See that your hats are on tight, girls,” laughed Cora. “We’re going to stir up some little breeze.”
They had a long stretch of road in front of them at the time, with no house or vehicle in sight. The conditions could not have been better for a race, and Cora increased her speed gradually until the car was going like the wind.
The car behind had taken up the challenge at once and was also coming along at a tremendous rate. But Belle, venturing sundry peeks behind, announced gleefully that it was not gaining an inch.
“But that isn’t enough,” Cora flung back. “We want to make them actually drop farther behind. When we’ve once done that I’ll be satisfied. Then we’ll slow up and let them catch up to us.”
Two minutes later, Belle clapped her hands in delight.
“We’ve done it! We’ve done it!” she cried. “They’re a quarter of a mile farther back than they were when we started in.”
“Oh, how we’ll rub it into them!” gurgled Bess.