although not a coward in the true sense of the word, she was always willing to have the other girls go first. Then there was Mollie, dark eyed and quick tempered, with more than a touch of the French in her, but Betty's equal in bravery. The last of the little quartette was Amy Blackford (formerly called Amy Stonington), who has not yet appeared in this book. Up to a year before she had been surrounded by a mystery which would have held great interest for the girls even had they not loved and admired her for her own good qualities.

Such were the girls who, with Betty's help, were fast recovering their good spirits.

"If we can back the machine out of this haystack," Frank was saying, "I guess we had better start for home."

"But don't you think we had better walk," Grace suggested nervously. "I'm afraid to trust myself to the old thing again."

"Oh, there won't be any danger now," Will assured her. "We can go back by a roundabout route where there aren't any hills to speed us into haystacks. How about it, Frank?"

"You're right! We are not going to take any more chances, I can tell you that." Then, turning to the girl beside him, he added, "How are you feeling, Betty? Awfully shaken up?"

"Not a bit," she assured him, gaily. "Why, after the first shock I really enjoyed it."

"That's the way to talk and I'm mighty glad no one's hurt. Now for home."

After a great number of half starts and sudden stops they succeeded finally in backing the great machine away from the haystack and out on the road again.

"Now remember your promise," cried Grace as they started off. "No more speeding, Frank, and no more hills."

"Right," he sang back, cheerily. "We have had excitement enough for one day. Just watch me."

And, true to his word, after an hour's roundabout trip, they swung quietly into Deepdale, without having encountered further mishap on the way.

CHAPTER III

FORTUNES

Early the next morning Mollie hailed Betty as the Little Captain went up the street.

"Where to, so early?" she called. "Why didn't you stop for me?"

"Oh, I was going to Amy's first, to find out how Mrs. Stonington is," said Betty as she turned back. "Then I was going to stop in to see if you would go with me to call on Grace. I promised her last night I would come over this morning."

"But isn't it early?" said Mollie, doubtfully. "Probably Grace won't even be up yet."

The Little Captain seated herself comfortably on the board step of the veranda. "Yes she will," she said decidedly. "I told her yesterday that if I came over this morning and found her in bed eating candy before breakfast instead of enjoying the wonderful morning air, I'd never come over again. She knows that I mean it, too."

"Well, in that case, she may be up," laughed Mollie. "If you will wait a minute I'll go with you to Amy's," she added and ran lightly into the house.

The girls found Mrs. Stonington very much improved and Amy only too glad to get out into the glorious sunshine of the summer morning.

As the three chums, clad daintily in white, with a background of velvety green lawn to set them off, approached the Fords' beautiful home, they were surprised beyond measure to see Grace swinging leisurely back and forth in the big hammock under the trees. They stopped short and gazed upon this spectacle.

"And she's not eating chocolates either," remarked Amy in an awe-struck voice. "What can have happened?"

"I wish you would stop gazing at me like that," said Grace, raising her head and looking at the three girls who were still regarding her fixedly. "Is it my hair, or is my nose red, or is it my skirt that's too tight? Please tell me and get it over with. I can stand anything but this suspense."

"A miracle has taken place—the impossible has happened!" cried Betty, striking a theatrical pose. "Never again will I doubt the wisdom of those so learned——"

"What is she raving about, girls, do you know?" asked Grace plaintively. "She never used to be like this."

"It's the shock, that's all," interpreted Mollie. "Never mind, Betty," she added soothingly. "You will get used to it in time."

"Amy, you're the only sane one in that crowd," cried Grace in desperation. "Will you kindly explain what those two lunatics are talking about—if they know themselves!" This last was uttered so vindictively that the girls came down from rhetorical heights with a bounce.

"Oh," laughed Betty, running up to Grace and giving her a hug. "You must really forgive us, Grace dear, we just couldn't help it—you reformed so suddenly, you know."

"Reformed?" said Grace, still mystified, while she made room for the other girls in the hammock. "What do you mean—'reformed'? I didn't know I needed to."

"Listen to the child," mocked Mollie. "Why, don't you know, Grace, that there isn't one of us that doesn't need a lot of reforming?"

"Speak for yourself, Mollie Billette," remarked Grace, a trifle shortly, for her natural good temper was becoming ruffled under the continued teasing.

"Now, please, girls," said Betty, fearing a storm, "don't let's quarrel, whatever we do. We were only surprised to see you up so early, Grace, that's all. But now I'm mighty glad you are, because we'll have a chance for a nice long talk. What time do you suppose it is now?"

"It was nearly ten when I came out of the house," Grace replied, placated by the Little Captain's tactful changing of the subject. "Can't you all stay to lunch? Then we can make a good long day of it."

The girls took a walk about town before lunch, just to "be sure of an appetite," as Amy said. During the tramp they met Roy Anderson, an old boy friend.

"Are you doing anything particular this afternoon?" he wanted to know, and upon the girls replying in the negative, asked if he might bring some of the other boys around. "We have made a discovery!" he shouted after them. "We'll tell you about it when we see you."

And so, the noon meal over, the girls strolled out on the lawn again and waited eagerly for what the boys might have to tell them.

They had not long to wait—in fact they had barely had time to settle themselves in the comfortable chairs, when along the road came—not the boys, but a ragged, bent, old woman, leaning heavily on a twisted stick for support. Instead of going straight on, as the girls had expected she would do, the old woman turned in at the drive and made straight for them.

"What shall we do? Shall we go in the house?" whispered Grace to Betty. "I don't like her looks very much, do you?"

"She isn't particularly beautiful," Betty telegraphed back. "But she can't possibly do us any harm. Let's wait and see what she has to say."

As the old hag drew nearer, the girls instinctively shrank back in their chairs. And, indeed, she was not a prepossessing figure. Her head was bound about with an old red handkerchief, tied under the wrinkled chin and framing a face seamed and crisscrossed with a million wrinkles. An old, tattered shawl covered her bent shoulders, and the hand that grasped the knotted stick was claw-like and emaciated. Her eyes were the only part of her that seemed to retain some semblance of youth. They were little and beady and exceedingly keen, so that when she raised them to Betty's young face, that staunch little captain felt that she would almost rather be anywhere else than there beneath the trees with the searching eyes of the old crone fixed upon her.

"What do you want?" Betty gasped, trying to make her voice calm and steady, but with little success.