The Motor Maids Across the Continent — Edition Insights

elds to promote any particular interest. But there was much to talk about.

“Was it only last week that we were four school girls at West Haven High School slaving over examinations?” cried Elinor Butler.

“Only a little week ago,” exclaimed Mary joyfully, “and now, behold us, free as birds on the wing.”

There was a flush of happiness on her usually pale face. It had been a long, hard spring for her, and she was glad after examinations were over, to hurry away with her friends without waiting for the final exercises.

“School! School!” said Nancy Brown, her face dimpling with happiness. “Don’t mention the hateful word. I am as full of mathematics and history and physics and Latin as a black cake is of plums.”

“Plums!” echoed Billie. “I’m stuffed with another variety of fruit. It’s dates.”

They laughed at the word dates; for, remembering dates, aside from mathematics, was the _bête noir_ of Billie’s school days and the teacher of history was very unpopular because she made the pupils of her classes learn six dates a day.

“But the class is even with Miss Hawkes now,” put in Nancy. “She isn’t to come back next year, and we gave her a present besides.”

“Why did you give her a present?” asked Miss Campbell, suddenly becoming curious.

“Well, you see, at the end of school we reckoned we had learned about 800 dates, not that we could remember 100 or even 50. It was Elinor who thought of it and because she has more nerve than any one else in the class——”

“Indeed I have not,” protested Elinor.

“Because she was never afraid even of the terrifying Miss Hawkes, she was chosen to make the speech and give Miss Hawkes a present from the class.”

Miss Campbell smiled. She was never tired of listening to their school-girl talk.

“What did you say and what was the present, my dear?”

“I said,” replied Elinor, “that, representing the class, I wanted to thank her for the splendid mental training she had given us last winter, and we wished to show our appreciation by giving her a little remembrance.”

“‘Remembrance’ was a good word, Elinor,” cried Billie.

“If she hadn’t been so pleased and made that speech of thanks, it wouldn’t have mattered so much,” put in Mary. “But I was ashamed when she untied the ribbons on the box——”

“And what was in it, child?” demanded Miss Campbell.

“Dates,” cried Billie, “dozens of dates packed in as tightly as dates can be packed, just as she had been packing them into our brains for nine months.”

“Oh! oh!” exclaimed Miss Campbell, trying to be shocked and laughing in spite of herself. “The poor soul! How embarrassed she must have felt. Was she very angry?”

“We couldn’t tell whether she was angry or hurt,” answered Elinor. “She drew herself up stiffer and straighter than usual if possible, and marched out of the room without a word.”

“And left us feeling very foolish indeed, cousin,” went on Billie. “But that isn’t all. Because I was the one who never could remember a date from one day to the next, I suppose she suspected me of having been the ring-leader and this morning when we stopped at the desk of the hotel for mail, the clerk handed me this letter. It was forwarded from West Haven.”

Billie drew an envelope from the pocket of her motor coat and gave it to the others.

“Read it,” she said. “I didn’t mention it before because I was so much interested in getting away and I had really forgotten it until the subject came up. I suppose Miss Hawkes is just a little queer in her upper story.”

“I understand you are going West in your automobile. If, on your journey, you should by chance hear the name of ‘Hawkes,’ do not treat it as lightly as you did in West Haven. Somewhere in the West that name is powerful.

“How absurd!” exclaimed Elinor. “She is queer. I am certain of it.”

“Anyhow,” pursued Billie, “I am ashamed of what we did now. I suppose it must have hurt her awfully.”

“Not more than she hurt us when she scolded us for forgetting those awful dates,” said Nancy relentlessly.

“Oh, well,” put in Miss Campbell, “she is just an angry old spinster who got obsessed with dates and then had a rude awakening. I don’t think it was exactly respectful to have given the lady a box of dried dates. But she brought it on herself, as you say. Tear up the letter and forget all about it. I have no doubt she is a perfectly harmless old person.”