There was a carriage block near
the curb, and Grace "draped herself artistically about it," as Mollie
Billette expressed it.
"If you're tired now, what will you be if we walk five or six miles a
day?" asked Betty with a smile. "Or even more, perhaps."
"Oh, I can if I have to--but I don't have to now. Come, Betty, tell us
when we are to start."
"Why, we can't decide now. Are you so anxious all of a sudden?" and Betty
pulled down and straightened the blue middy blouse that had been rumpled
by her energetic chums.
"Of course. I detest waiting--for trains or anything else. I'm just dying
to go, and I've got the cutest little traveling case. It--"
"Has a special compartment for chocolates; hasn't it, Grace?" asked
Mollie Billette, whose dark and flashing eyes, and black hair, with just
a shade of steely-blue in it, betrayed the French blood in her veins.
"Oh, Grace couldn't get along without candy!" declared Betty, with a
smile.
"Now that's mean!" exclaimed Grace, whose tall and slender figure, and
face of peculiar, winsome beauty had gained her the not overdrawn
characterization of "Gibson girl." "I don't see why Billy wants to always
be saying such horrid things about me!"
"I didn't say anything mean!" snapped Mollie, whose pseudonym was more
often "Billy" than anything else.
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