"I shouldn't tell," replied Belle, who was looking very pretty--at least one of the strange boys thought so. It was Phil MacVicker who "kept track" of Belle, and it was the same gallant Phil, who, late in the afternoon, helped Belle to finish up her pond lily. "We may all guess why Belle chose that design," said Daisy, who was waiting for the newcomers to pass judgment on her own runabout. "A pond lily has a yellow head, and Belle's is just about that shade." It would be pretty to see a yellow head in the white peals of the improvised lily. Cora satisfied her curiosity by finding out that these petals were nothing more than barrel staves covered with crushed white paper. "You have had an awful lot to do, girls," she said with genuine sincerity. "I am actually sorry I could not have been here to help." "Of course, mine is not so elegant," remarked Daisy, who led the way to the other carriage house, where her machine was kept, "but I fancy people will look at it." Duncan "went wild" when he beheld what Daisy had rigged up. A veritable circus wagon--a cage, in which Daisy declared she was going to sit with whip in hand, and Nero, the big St. Bernard dog, at her feet. "We made it out of clothes poles and laths," said Daisy proudly. "I have not taken a course in manual training for naught." Then the boys had to fix up their cars. Duncan was tired--the other boys were frisky--so he nicely suggested that they "do as they jolly pleased with his car, so long as they left room for his feet." Of course the boys wanted something grotesque. Phil suggested that they all carry out the circus idea, and "trail" after Beauty and the Beast. This was finally agreed to, and it was Duncan's car that they turned into the calliope, actually going so far as to hire the local hurdy-gurdy man to ride in it and do the "callioping." "It looks as if our run home would be more auspicious than the trip we made in," said Cora to one of the very nice young students, who had offered to look over her car and see that it was in good working order. "We had a dreadful time coming out here--but I suppose the girls have told you about it." Bentley Davis, otherwise called Ben, admitted that the young ladies had spoken of the trip, and he presumed to predict a great time for the auto meet. So it went on until the boys had to go back to their hotel, and the girls, after discussing all sorts of necessary and unnecessary plans, finally consented to wait for the morrow. Tired from their enthusiasm, as well as from muscular efforts, the girls found their eyes scarcely "locked," before the bright rays of a late summer sun knocked on the tardy lids and demanded recognition. Was it really time to get up? If only the wasted hours of the evening past might be tucked on to the shortened time! Most things might be lengthened that way.