“Will you race, Sidney?” called Cora, before the occupants of the yellow car had had time to greet the others.

“Yes, certainly,” he assented.  “I would like nothing better.”

“Then we’ll have to handicap the girls,” suggested Walter.  “They have by far the fastest machine.”

“But it’s brand new,” objected Cora, “and isn’t tuned up yet, as the two runabouts are.  Besides, look who we are—­girls.”

“Very charming ones, I’m sure,” said Sid quickly, but, somehow, his voice did not ring true.

“Handicap,” spoke Walter.  “I suppose it’s right, but you see —­er—­we fellows could—­” He was floundering about for a way of saying that the girls should not be penalized by giving the drivers of the two runabouts a start.  For, in spite of their small size and less power the runabouts were speedy cars.  It seemed as if Walter did not want to take the obviously fair advantage due him.

“Oh, no,” declared Cora.  “We’ll let you handicap us all you wish.  We are willing to test the Whirlwind on its merits.”

“I should think so,” sneered Ida, and then she turned disdainfully away, as if the landscape held more of interest for her than did the details of a race.

“Who is that forward girl?” asked quiet Mary of Bess.

“Ida Giles,” was the whispered reply.

“She looked at me as if I did not belong in a motor car,” went on the little milliner, with that quick perception acquired by business experience.

“Well, she doesn’t belong in the one she’s in,” retorted Bess kindly.  “I guess you imagine she meant something like that.  Ida is not really mean.  She is merely thoughtless.”

“That’s the very meanest kind of meanness,” insisted Mary, “for, when folks do a thing through thoughtlessness they do not know enough to be careful next time.”

Bess smiled to assure Mary that the milliner’s model was on an equal footing with the girls in the Whirlwind, at all events.

“Line up!” called Jack.  “Get ready for the race.  We’ll not insist on a handicap for you, Cora.”

Sid sent his car directly to the middle of the road, the very best place.

“Better let the touring car go there,” suggested Walter in as even a tone as he could command.  “It will need lots of room, and the road’s not very wide.”

“That’s right,” added Jack.  “A runabout can go on either side, then.”

“I don’t know,” began Sid.  “Cora ought to beat, and yet with two fellows driving against her—­”

“Oh, if it’s a matter of girls,” almost sneered Ida, “I’ll drive the Streak.”

“Good idea!” hurriedly spoke Jack.  “That will `make the match even.  Suppose we take a girl to drive our car, Walter?”

Walter glanced rather ruefully at his companion.

“Why—­er—­yes,” he drawled.  “Suppose we take—­”

“Bess,” finished Jack, quickly.  “She knows considerable about a car, and she’s driven this one.”