"I think it a shame to call Cecilia Thayer Clip," objected Belle. "She is no more of a romp than--" "Any boy," interrupted Bess. "Well, the boys call her Clip, and it's handy." By this time the new car was up in line with the others. "'Lo, there!" called Cecilia, jerking her machine to a stop in the manner deplored by skilled mechanicians. "Look out!" cautioned Cora. "You'll 'bust' something." Cecilia had bounded out on the road. "Stiff as a stick!" she exclaimed with a rather becoming twist of her agile form. "I never make that road without absorbing every bump on the thoroughfare." Cecilia was not altogether pretty, for she had the "accent on her nose," as Cora put it, but she was dashing, and, at a glance, one might easily guess why she had been called Clip. Rachel Stuart was a striking blonde, tall to a fault, pink and white to bisqueness and, withal, evidently conscious of her charms. Even while motoring she affected the pastel tints, and this morning looked radiant in her immense blue scarf and her well-matched blue linen coat. "You look," said Cora to Cecilia, as the latter continued to shake herself out of the absorbed bumps, "like nothing so much as like a 'strained' nurse--Jack's variety." "Exactly that!" admitted Cecilia. "I have been searching high and low for a cheap and economical rig to drive in, and I have just hit upon this." She pirouetted wonderfully. "All ready made--the 'strained' nurse variety, sure enough. How do you like it?" "Very becoming," decided Bess. "And very practical," announced Belle. "Sweet," declared Cora. "When you say a good thing, stop," ordered Cecilia, just as Ray was about to give her verdict. "And now to the woods," suggested Cora. "We may as well put our machines up in the open near the grove. We can see them there, and make sure that no one is tempted to investigate them." It was a level stretch over the field to the grove. Cora led the way and the others followed. Lunch baskets and boxes were quickly gathered up from the machines, and, with the keenness of appetite common to young and healthy, and "painful" to our fair motorists (for Cecilia declared her appetite "hurt"), the party scampered off to an appropriate spot where the lunch might be enjoyed. "And there are to be no boys?" asked Maud Morris, she with the "imploring look," as Cecilia put it, although Maud was familiarly known as a very sweet girl. "No boys!" echoed Bess, between uncertain mouthfuls. Daisy Bennet turned her head away in evident disapproval. "No boys," she repeated faintly. Daisy did everything faintly. She was a perfectly healthy young girl, but a little affected otherwise--too fond of paper-covered books, and perhaps too fond of other sorts of romance. But we must not condemn Daisy--her mother had the health-traveling habit, and what was Daisy to do with herself? Cora handed around some lettuce sandwiches.