"Oh, Bob, I beg of you to do no such thing," said Mrs. Bucknor gently, laying a restraining hand lightly on her husband's arm. Her touch was soft and light but it held Bob Bucknor as effectively as iron handcuffs might have. "If this girl is as forward as Mildred and Nan say she is, it would be very embarrassing to have her constantly asserting her kinship with our girls. I am sure I do not know her at all. She is pretty and no doubt is good, but she is naturally common and evidently very pushing." "All right, my dear, all right! You know best," responded Mr. Bucknor. At this juncture Kizzie announced dinner, which was a relief to all of them. "Take my arm, Cousin Ann," said Jeff gallantly. For a moment the old woman and the young man stood looking off over the rolling meadows of blue grass. Cutting the lush green pasture lands was the white limestone turnpike. Far off in the distance a blue speck appeared on the white road. In a twinkling it grew into a car and then went whizzing by, leaving a cloud of white dust in its wake. Jeff smiled and, glancing down at his old cousin, caught an answering smile on her face. "I'm rather glad she's kin," he whispered, and she gave his arm a tiny squeeze. Then the thought came to him: "I wonder if she is as bold and forward as Mildred says she is. I wish she hadn't been so familiar with those motormen. That wasn't very ladylike to go up and engage them in conversation. Perhaps Mildred is right. You could hardly expect old Dick Buck's granddaughter to be very refined--but, gee, she's a good looker!" CHAPTER VII Judith Makes a Hit Judith reached home in time to prepare an excellent basket supper for her motormen customers. She was determined that her food should be so good it would advertise itself and every employe on the line would demand service. All of the potatoes were not peeled when she was ready for them, but her mother's explanation was that it seemed a pity to peel potatoes because there was so much waste in that method. It really was better to cook them in the skins. Judith kissed her and laughed. "Another time we'll cook them in their jackets, Mumsy dear, but I cleared enough money this morning to afford to waste a few potato peelings. If I have a week of such luck, I'll have to get in more supplies. The girls in this county are just eating up my vanishing cream and my liquid powder that won't rub off. I've made a great hit with my anti-kink lotion with the poor colored people. Half the female world is trying to get curled and the other half trying to get uncurled. I have got rid of dozens and dozens of marcel wavers, the steel kind that must dig into you fearfully at night, and bottle after bottle of that quince seed lotion, warranted to keep hair in curl for an all-day picnic, where it usually rains, and, if it doesn't, you fall in the creek to even up."