“Goodness, Mollie, I don’t see why you ever wanted to go and suggest that for,” said Grace nervously. “We all know there is danger of a collision over at the Point, and I’m sure I don’t want to spoil my clothes, even if you do.” “Your father said that he would rather we kept to this side of the river, Betty,” urged Amy. “Please don’t go over to the Point now.” “There’s no use talking to her,” snapped Grace. “You ought to know Betty well enough by this time to know that she would take us over to the Point now, after what Mollie said, if she knew we would all die of it. Might as well save your breath.” Mollie said nothing, but down in her heart she was more than a little bit anxious and was beginning to regret that she had deliberately egged Betty on. Percy Falconer, of whom Betty had spoken, had once been a rather dudish, affected boy and had later developed into an exceedingly fast young man. He had an immensely rich father and a mother who denied him nothing so that he had been able to gather together a few kindred spirits among whom he was the leader. All the regular boys and girls in town thoroughly disliked “the set,” but there were a few girls who were willing to put up with Percy Falconer and his crowd for sake of the long motor rides, dances, dinners and motorboat picnics that the boys were able to give them. There were always some of this wild crowd over at the “Point,” and it was for this reason as well as the very real danger of a collision with a recklessly driven boat that Betty’s father had rather discouraged the chums going over to that side of the river. However the day was fine, the water of the river was as calm as a lake and the _Gem_ flew across the sparkling water like a gull, bringing a flush of pure excitement and pleasure to the faces of the girls. Danger! what danger could there be in this staunch little craft, with Betty at the wheel? They were half way across the river, now! three quarters. The gay pleasure craft flaunting up and down the river were becoming more numerous and Betty slackened speed. Her breath came more quickly and her hands tightened on the wheel. She could drive a boat as well as any boy, but here, she knew, was a situation to test her greatest skill. Craft of all sizes and descriptions seemed to the excited girls to be piling up about them. Most of the boats were being navigated carefully, but now and then a small, fast speed-craft would shoot out from behind another so suddenly that Betty would be forced to swerve sharply to one side, fairly grazing the stern of the racing boat. On one of these occasions, when it had seemed impossible to avoid a collision, Amy called out sharply: “Oh, Betty, don’t you think we had better go back?” And Betty replied with a queer little laugh: “Might just as well go ahead as back now. We’ll be there in a minute. Don’t worry.”