r below the
hedgerows. With an open road in front of her she was tempted sometimes
to put on speed, and felt as if she were flying onwards into a dream
country where all was vague and mysterious and shadowy and unknown. She
was always loth to return, but Aunt Harriet was extremely particular
that they must be home before lighting-up time, and would point
remorselessly to the small clock that hung facing the seat. Perhaps
Winona's greatest triumph was when, one evening, she managed without any
assistance to run the car into its own shed in the garage, a delicate
little piece of steering which required fine calculation, a quick hand,
and a rapid turn. She was learning something of the mechanism, too,
could refill the petrol tank, and was almost anxious for a tire to
burst, so that she might have the opportunity of putting on the Stepney
wheel, though this latter ambition was not shared by her aunt.

"When all the men have gone to the war, I'll be able to drive a taxi or
a war van, and make myself useful to the Government! I believe I could
clean the car perfectly well if Sam should be called up, and has to
leave the garage. I'd just enjoy turning the hose on it. What would they
give me a week to take Sam's place here?"

"They'd give you a snubbing if you asked them!" laughed Aunt Harriet.
"Cleaning a car is uncommonly hard work. You might manage our small one,
but by the time you'd done the whole round of the garage, you'd be ready
to declare it wasn't a woman's job."

"I'd chance it!" retorted Winona.

She had her opportunity after all, for the garage attendant was taken
ill, and remained off duty for several days. On the Saturday morning
Winona set to work and cleaned, polished and oiled the car thoroughly.
It was very dirty after a muddy day's use, so she had her full
experience. It was certainly far harder than she had anticipated, and
she felt devoutly thankful that she was not bound to attack the cars in
the other sheds, and perform similar services for each.

"Sam earns his money," she assured Aunt Harriet, when she returned at
lunch-time. "On the whole, I've decided I won't be a lady chauffeur.
It's bad enough to have to clean one's bicycle, but if I had to go
through this car performance every day, I don't think there'd be very
much left of me."

"Ah! I told you so!" returned, Aunt Harriet triumphantly.

Motoring was not the only fresh form of activity which Winona had taken
up this summer. The school had