She clasped her hand around one of the braces of the hayrick,
evidently determined that should she be "turned out" her arm would be
responsible.

"That's just like you, Nita Brant," declared Tavia Travers, the latter
really being manager of the occasion. "When I go to work, and hire a
car like this, and especially stipulate that the ride shall
be--rural--you kick on the bumps."

But scarcely had she uttered these words, when a "bump" came, with
neither time nor opportunity for Nita's "kick." In fact, it was
remarkable that the old hay wagon did not actually carry out its
threat, to roll over in the direction toward which it wobbled.

"If you young ladies care to ride any farther," called out a man from
the front of the wagon, "you better be still. I ain't put no corks in
the holes in the bottom of this autymobile."

He chuckled at his own joke. The holes were only too apparent to the
fair occupants of the hay wagon.

"Oh, it's all right, Sam," called back Tavia, "the only thin member of
the party, who might by any chance fall through a hole, is dying from
bumps, and we have a good hold on her. If you could see through the
hay you would behold the human chain in action," and she gave Nita
such a jerk that the latter declared the bumps were lovely, and
begged to be allowed to do her own experimenting with them.

"He laughs best who laughs least," misquoted Dorothy, as the wagon
continued to jog along. "I don't exactly like the--er--contour of the
hill we are approaching."

"Why, that's the real thing in hills," declared Tavia. "I planned this
road purposely to 'tobog' down that hill."

"I hope the old horses are hooked up securely," remarked Rose-Mary,
whom the girls called Cologne. "I don't mind making a hill, but I hate
to have the wagon make it in solo. I have had a try of that sort."

"Now say your prayers, Nita," ordered Tavia, "and don't forget to
repent for snibbying my chocolates."

"Oh!" screamed Edna Black, _alias_ Ned Ebony, "I do believe something
is going to happen!"

"Sure thing," continued Tavia, in her joking way. "Do you suppose the
girls from Glenwood ever go out without having 'something happen'?"

The old man was pulling at the reins, but his horses were starting to
slide.

"Watch that fellow waltz," remarked Tavia. "Now, wouldn't he be great
in a circus?"

The "waltzing horse" tried to sit down, but the farmer tugged at the
lines, and otherwise objected to such conduct, and the u