"Neither do I," she replied promptly. "That is precisely why I am so nice to him. I have to keep friends with him just now. And I have not the slightest doubt his motive is identical with my own." She paused to laugh indifferently, then she tossed aside her dust coat and stood revealed in spotless white linen. "How do you like me?" she asked, straightened up to her short height. "Am I not a full-fledged 'strained' nurse, now? You know I am summoned to court this afternoon, and all the papers will describe me." Her brightness seemed infectious. Paul leaned upon his elbow, and Hazel was actually interested in Clip's new costume. "Yes," she went on. "You see, Mrs. Salvey has been called to account for Wren--did you ever hear of anything so ridiculous? Those lawyer relatives of hers pretend to believe that Wren is being neglected because we have taken her away from the supposed care of that absurd doctor. Well, I just told Mrs. Salvey to answer the summons and go to court. It will be the best thing that ever happened to have her get her real story before the public." "But what about yourself?" asked Hazel. "They will ask you how old you are, and what is your occupation?" "And my friends will all fall dead." Cecilia did not appear worried at the prospect. "Well, I shall say I am not as old as some girls, and that I am engaged in being a member of the Motor Girls' Club." "That is precisely where your trouble will begin," said Paul. "The motor girls will never stand for a 'strained'--" "Indeed, I am not the least bit afraid that I shall lose the friendship of Cora and her brother. Even Walter and Ed will think it jolly to have kept up the joke. Of course"--and she hesitated--"some of the others--" "Well, you can count on us," declared Paul warmly. "And if ever I get out of this trouble, and am well again, I am going to take Hazel for a long tour. You might--" "Oh, you silly! I might go along? Where on earth would I get seventy-five cents to go to Europe with?" She placed the bouquet on the small table near the window. "There; I guess the flowers will not contaminate us. But when he gave them to me--or, rather, sent them, there was a note in the box," she added. Both Hazel and Paul looked their question. "Yes," replied Clip. "Would you like to hear the note?" She took from her pocket a slip of paper. "It always strikes me as odd that people who try hardest to do one thing, and mean another, fail utterly to hide the intention. Now this gentleman, who writes with such solicitation about Wren, says he really misses seeing her, declares frankly that Jack Kimball and I were seen to smuggle her off in Jack's auto, and then-- But let me read the finish. I am spoiling the effect: