“For goodness’ sake, let go of me, Paul. Dodo, if you touch that bag again, I’ll spank you. Mother,” she wailed, looking back pleadingly over her shoulder, “won’t you please make these little pests go into the house?” Whereupon Mrs. Billette suddenly appeared at the door, smiled at Betty, grabbed Paul with one hand, Dodo with the other, while the twins roared a protest. Released, Mollie dropped her bag, sped round to the garage, and in a moment more was backing the big car round to the road. The girls had decided to about live in their khaki tramping suits on this trip, merely packing in a good dress or two to wear on dress-up occasions. In this way they had to take less luggage and could have more space to “spread out” as Mollie said. “Put your grip in here, Betty,” Mollie suggested, as she slung her own grip into the tonneau of the big machine. “There is more room, and Mrs. Irving said she wouldn’t mind in the least being entirely surrounded by suitcases.” Betty laughed, did as she was bid, and a moment later they were off, speeding down the road to Grace’s house where they were to pick up the other two girls and Mrs. Irving. They found the three waiting for them, and it took scarcely any time at all to add the extra grips to the growing pile in the tonneau of Mollie’s car. Amid great fun, Mrs. Irving, who was rosy-cheeked and matronly and as jolly as the girls, was wedged into the remaining space, Amy climbed to the front seat beside Mollie and Grace took her seat with Betty. They were off! The sting of the wind was in their faces, and the sun beat warmly down upon them as they rolled along, passing familiar houses, and sometimes familiar people, to whom they waved, and so on and on till they left the town behind them and started out on the open road. “My, this is something like,” commented Grace, stretching her feet out before her for all the world like a lazy, comfortable cat. “I feel awfully sorry for all the poor people who haven’t cars to ride in to-day and Wild Rose Lodges to visit. By the way, why is it called Wild Rose Lodge, Betty?” “Because they say there are lots of wild roses around it, of course,” Betty responded, her hands resting easily on the wheel, her eyes bright with the joy of the moment. Grace, stealing a sideways glance at her, could not help thinking that Betty looked not unlike a wild rose herself. “You look awfully pretty, honey,” she said then, for Grace was always generous with praise where her friends were concerned. “I would give the world to have a color like yours.” “Goodness,” remarked Betty, turning to look at her chum, her face a little brighter pink because of the honest compliment, “you have a lovely color! as you very well know. Mine is too red sometimes.”