"Then we can stop the car and Mollie can
read hers, too."
"You always have the right idea, Betty honey," said Mollie, with fond
emphasis, as she swung the car at breakneck speed down the street and
headed for the open country. "Now aren't you glad," she flung at Grace and
Amy, "that we made you go back with us and take a chance?"
"Don't rub it in, Mollie dear," purred Grace, too happy at the prospect
before them to contradict anything or anybody on earth. "We are deeply
appreciative and inordinately grateful to you for your wonderful
foresight and insistence."
"Is she calling me names?" cried Mollie threateningly. "For if she is, I
should like to remark for the benefit of each and every one that I am
still in possession of the wheel, and a swift and terrible doom shall
overtake--"
"Rave on, rave on, Macbeth," chuckled Betty, adding with a whimsical smile
and a quickened heart beat as she fingered the letter she had so carefully
placed under the rest: "There's no use, Mollie dear--you can't start a
rumpus now. It can't be done. We're all too good-natured."
"That's the way Frank talks after a particularly good meal," chuckled
Mollie.
"And I never saw boys who were so absolutely crazy about hot biscuits,"
sighed Amy. "If you gave them enough hot biscuits, they didn't seem to
know or care whether they had anything else or not."
"Yes, somebody was always stirring up biscuit dough when we were at Pine
Island," agreed Grace, her eyes dreamy.
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