olgirl. And I
like it! It's so--oh, I don't know--so darn human, I suppose. Now
hurry--kiss me, and get out, before they suspect."

"Listen."

"Yes?"

"I'll accidentally meet your car along the road. Invite you to ride. All
right?"

"Yes. Do. Oh, we _are_ two forlorn babes in the woods! G'-by."

She sauntered back to the picnic, and observed, "What is that purple
flower up on the mountain side?"

The big car was sedately purring back when it was insulted by an
intermediate host of a machine that came jumping out of a side road. The
vulgar driver hailed them with uncouth howling. The Gilsons' chauffeur
stopped, annoyed.

"Why, hello folks," bawled the social bandit.

"Oh. How do you do," refuted Mrs. Gilson.

Jeff Saxton turned a ripe purple.

"How do you like my new bug, Claire? Awful little object. But I can make
fifty an hour. Come and try it, Claire, can't you?"

"Why----" Claire was obviously shocked by the impropriety of the
suggestion. She looked at Mrs. Gilson, who was breathing as though she
was just going under the ether. Claire said doubtfully, "Well---- If you
can get me right back to the house----"

"Sure," agreed Milt.

When the Loco was gone, Milt drove the bug to the side of the road,
yanked up the emergency brake, and carefully kissed the girl who was
snuggled down into the absurd low tin-sided seat.

"Do we have to get back soon?" he begged.

"Oh, I don't care if we never get back. Let's shoot up into the
mountains. Side road. Let's pretend we're driving across the continent
again."

Firs dashing by--rocks in the sunshine--clouds jaunty beyond the
inviting mouth of a mountain pass--even the ruts and bumps and
culverts--she seemed a part of them all. In the Gilsons' huge cars she
had been shut off from the road, but in this tiny bug, so close to
earth, she recovered the feeling of struggle, of triumph over
difficulties, of freedom unbounded. And she could be herself, good or
bad, ignorant or wise, with this boy beside her. All of which she
expressed in the most eloquent speech she had ever uttered, namely:

"Oh, _Milt_----!"

And, to herself, "Golly, it's such a relief not to have to try to be
gracious and aphoristic and repartistic and everything with Jeff."

And, "But I wonder if I am aphoristic and subtle? I wonder if when she
gets the rice-powder off, Claire isn't a lot more like Milt than she
thought?"

And, aloud again, "Oh, this is----"

"Yump. It sure is," Milt agree