f Hill
Crest.

The place boasted nothing so magnificent as a hotel, but they managed to
find a little bake shop where the rosy-cheeked country woman who worked
there made them up some delicious sandwiches, supplied them with
tempting rolls and cake, and, wonder of wonders, set upon the table a
pitcher of fresh milk.

When they had finished this rural but eminently satisfying repast, they
hurried over to the one big general store to buy a few supplies that
they would need that night. It was necessary to lay in only a limited
amount, as Grace's aunt Mary had thoughtfully left her cottage well
stocked and had informed them that eggs, chickens and vegetables of all
kinds could be had fresh from the farmers round about.

Then they were off again, eyes upon that ribbon of road in front, intent
upon reaching their destination before nightfall.

It was not till about four o'clock that they met with their first
setback.

Betty had just rounded a turn in the road, horn honking for all it was
worth, when she found herself almost on top of a huge farm wagon.

She yelled to the driver and put on her brakes hard, hoping desperately
that Mollie would not run into her from behind. Grace shrieked and
covered her face with her hands.

It was a narrow escape, for when the car had finally stopped there was
not more than about an inch between it and the wagon in front. Luckily
Mollie had been warned by the noise of the horn, and had stopped her
machine just around the turn of the road. She and Mrs. Ford and Amy came
running to see what the matter was.

Meanwhile Betty had recovered herself and was smiling apologetically up
at the frightened driver. His horses, startled by the noise and shouting
had tried to bolt, and he had had all he could do to hold them in. The
result was a slightly heated condition on the part of his temper.

"I'm sorry," Betty was saying, her voice still tremulous from the
sudden fright she had received. "I thought--"

"Yes, an' I thought too," he interrupted, in a gruff, rude tone that
whipped the color to her face. "It would be a heap better if some
folks'd think before they done things. Durned old gasoline wagons."

And, still muttering, the angry man turned and whipped up his team while
the girls stared after him dumbly.

CHAPTER XIII

OUTWITTING A CRANK

"Old grouch," cried Mollie, shaking a vindictive little fist after the
departing farmer. "If it hadn't been that you would have killed y