te taste in dress.

"His taste is extremely good," she said. "He expects to run a millinery
shop in a year or so. He says he can trim hats charmingly."

"My word!" exclaimed Billie. "I suppose his mother will make your suit
and he'll pin the feather on the hat, and between them they will equip
you to climb the Adirondacks. But, oh, Nancy, I implore you to explain
to Mrs. Moxley that hobbles don't go in the mountains."

"She understands," replied Nancy with much dignity. "She is going to
make me the very latest thing in mountain-climbing suits, and she gets
all her fashions straight from New York."

Her friends exchanged covert glances and said nothing. Nancy's
conferences with Mrs. Moxley, the dressmaker, were a source of endless
amusement to them. It was Mrs. Moxley who had made Nancy's graduating
costume that June, and never had been seen on the platform of West Haven
High School such a fashionable _toilette_. It had a hobble skirt and a
fancy little train that flopped about Nancy's feet like a beaver's tail,
and at the reception afterwards the boys had teased her until she left
in tears.

Two weeks had passed since graduation and our Motor Maids were just
beginning to feel the results of their hard winter's work. It had been
a tough pull to catch up with their classes after the return from
Japan. There had been no gayeties for them during the Christmas
holidays, only continuous hard study, and for weeks afterwards Billie
and Nancy and Elinor were tutored every afternoon. Mary Price, the best
student of the three, had outstripped them, and in the end had carried
off first honors and a scholarship besides. But after the excitement of
finals, the four friends had collapsed like pricked balloons. Billie,
mortified at what she considered a weakness in her character, had not
been able to throw off a deep cold contracted in the spring. Mary Price
was limp and white; Elinor had grown mortally thin, and even Nancy had
lost her roundness, and her usually plump face was peaked and pale.

"My child needs mountain air!" said Mr. Campbell on one of his flying
trips to West Haven. "She must not be in a hotel, and she must have her
friends with her."

With characteristic energy he had set to work to find a place somewhere
in the mountains, and he had made three trips before he satisfied
himself that "Sunrise Camp" in the Adirondacks, to let furnished, was
exactly what he had been searching for. The owners had gone abroad and