“Nobody thinks that but you,” said Grace, squeezing Betty’s hand affectionately while she dived down in her pocket for some candy. “The only time I have noticed you get very red,” she added, “is when some one happens to mention a certain young gentleman by the name of Lieutenant Allen Washburn.” Betty could feel that her face was burning, but she did not care. She was awfully proud of Allen and desperately fond of him and for the moment she did not care if the whole world knew about it. “Isn’t it wonderful, Gracie?” she cried, her heart pounding joyously. “About Allen being an officer, I mean. I have to pinch myself several times a minute to make myself realize that it is really true.” “It surely is great,” Grace answered slowly, adding after a moment, while a faraway expression crept into her eyes, “I don’t blame you for being crazy about him, honey. I could almost be foolish myself. Oh, don’t worry,” she went on quickly as Betty turned amazed and rather startled eyes upon her. “I’m no fonder of Allen than I am of any of the other boys. I just said that I didn’t blame _you_, that’s all.” Betty turned her eyes to the road once more, but in her heart she was troubled. There had been a note in Grace’s voice that she had never heard before. Could it be possible that she really cared for Allen? But she pushed the thought from her mind resolutely. If such a thing could have been possible, she certainly would have discovered it before this. The mere thought was nonsense of course. And yet she was troubled. “Have some candy,” Grace invited, breaking in upon her thoughts. “You needn’t stick up your nose at it to-day for I bought this fresh from the store this morning.” “Who said I was going to stick up my nose?” said Betty, helping herself to a chocolate that looked as if it might contain a nut and thankful for the break in her not-too-pleasant reflections. “If you will think back just a little, I think you will admit that I have been guilty very seldom of sticking up my nose at anything “Except Percy Falconer,” finished Grace drolly, and they both laughed merrily. “Poor Percy!” said Betty, chewing her candy contentedly. “I suppose he will hate us more heartily than ever now.” They were running some eight or ten miles from the town along a quiet stretch of road, never dreaming of danger, when Betty’s little racer nosed around a bend in the road and came smack into it! Not twenty feet ahead of them a man sprang into the middle of the road and leveled a revolver at them! In one electrified instant they saw that the fellow wore a mask and a slouch hat and looked for all the world like a brigand straight out of some sensational moving picture. Betty, more surprised at first than alarmed, put on her brakes and came to a standstill, at the same time putting out a hand to warn the car behind them.