“Grace,” said Tom in a husky voice, “that was the quickest move I ever saw any one make.”

Grace drew a long breath, the color returned to her pale face and in a measure she recovered herself.

“Some one had to do something,” she said weakly.  “I was the nearest to her, that’s all.  Are you hurt, Mabel, dear?” she asked, turning to the young girl, who stood by Jessica, looking white and dazed.

“It came so suddenly,” she faltered, “I couldn’t get up.  It was awful!” She shuddered, then burst into tears, burying her face in Jessica’s shoulder.

“There, there,” soothed Jessica, wiping her own eyes.  “It’s all right now.  Stand up straight and let me brush your coat.  You are all mud.”

“Here come the would-be murderesses now,” cried Hippy.  “They actually managed to stop and turn around, and now they are coming this way.  One of them is my pet abomination—­Miss Wright.  She used to call me ‘fatty’ when I was little, and I’ve never forgiven her.  But who is the reckless young person playing chauffeur?  She ought to be put in jail for exceeding the speed limit.”

“Hush!” said Grace.  “Here she is.”

The runabout had stopped and Eleanor alighted.  Ignoring the four chums, she walked up to Miriam Nesbit.

“Will you please tell me if any one is hurt?” she asked pettishly.  “I saw some one fall, but couldn’t stop the machine.  I supposed the highway was for vehicles, not pedestrians four abreast.”

“Miss Savell, you have just missed running over Miss Allison,” said Miriam coldly.  “Had it not been for Miss Harlowe, there would have been a serious accident.  I should advise you to drive more carefully in future, or you may not escape so easily another time.”

Eleanor flushed at these words and said haughtily, “I did not ask for advice, I asked for information.”

“Very true,” replied Miriam calmly, “but you see I have given you both.”

“You are the most ill-bred lot of girls I have ever seen,” returned Eleanor crossly, “and I think you are making a great deal of unnecessary fuss over a small matter.  Why didn’t your prize orphan get out of the way with the rest of you?  Besides, you have no right to block a public highway, as you did.  I am very sorry I came back at all.”

Turning on her heel, she walked back to the runabout, climbed in and drove down the road like the wind, apparently indifferent as to what comment her heartless behavior might create.

“Who on earth is that girl?” inquired Reddy Brooks.  “She has about as much sympathy as a stone.”

“That is Eleanor Savell,” replied Anne Pierson, “and she can be nice if she wishes, but she doesn’t like us very well.  That’s why she was so hateful.”

“So that’s the famous Eleanor?” said Tom Gray in a low tone to Grace.  “Aunt Rose was telling me about her this morning at breakfast.  I supposed she was a great friend of yours.”