“I am glad you like it,” answered Miss Hunt, still sore over her bout with Judy, “but I must say it is hard on me with this chiffon dress. What will it look like after this?” “Well, you know, chiffon is French for rag so I fancy it will look like a Paris creation,” called back Judy from the front seat, where she was still installed by Kent. “I’ll bet anything her hair will come out of curl,” she whispered to her companion, “and I should not be astonished to see some of her beauty wash off.” “Eany, meany,” laughed Kent. “You are already way ahead of her, Miss Judy. Do leave her her hair and complexion.” “Well, I’ll try to be good,” said penitent Judy. “You and Molly are so alike, it is right amusing. And the worst of it is your goodness rubs off on everybody you come in contact with. Do you realize I have been in Kentucky for weeks and that Miss Hunt is the first person I have had a scrap with, and so far I have not got myself in a single ‘Julia Kean’ scrape? I have been in so many, that the girls at college have named the particular kind of scrape I get in after me, just as though I were a famous physician who had discovered a disease.” “Just what kind of scrape do you usually get in?” “The kind of scrape I get in is always one I can get out of, and usually one that I fall in from not looking ahead enough at the consequences.” “Well, I pray God that this will be a ‘Julia Kean’ scrape we are in to-night. Certainly, lack of foresight got us in. I’d like to get that weather man and throw him in this creek. ‘Generally fair and variable winds,’ much!” said Kent with such a serious expression that Judy began to realize that this was not simply a case of a good wetting, but might mean something more. The horses were knee deep in water now, but splashing bravely on. Molly noticed that in hitching up for the homeward trip Kent had put President in the lead. “That is because old President has so much sense and will know how to pick his way and keep his feet when the other horses would get scared and begin to struggle and pull down the whole team,” said Molly to Professor Green. Molly was fully aware of the danger they were in, but was keeping her knowledge to herself for fear of starting a panic among the girls. “There is no real danger of drowning,” she whispered to her companion, “so long as we stay in the wagon. But the banks are so steep that if we should get out we might slip into the creek and then it would be about impossible to keep our feet. Look at the water now, up to the hubs of the wheels! I am sorry for the horses, and what an awful responsibility for Kent! But he is equal to it. Do you know, I really believe Kent is equal to anything!” It was, of course, pitch dark now, except for frequent flashes of lightning that illuminated the raging torrents, so all were forced to realize the grave situation.