"No, I'm not mad. But I think you're an awful chump," replied Bob with
his characteristic frankness.

Before the drive was over, Betty was inclined to agree with him.

The car was an open one, and while the day was warm and sunny, there was
a lively breeze blowing straight off the lake. The veil persisted in
blowing first into Betty's eyes, then into Bob's, and interfered to an
amazing degree with their enjoyment of the scenery. Finally, as they
rounded a curve and caught the full breath of the breeze, the veil blew
away entirely.

"Let it go," said Betty resignedly. "It's cost me six dollars to learn I
don't want to wear a veil."

Bob privately decided he liked her much better without the flimsy net
affair, but he wisely determined not to air his opinion. There was no
use, he told himself, in "rubbing it in."

They had lunch in a cozy little tea-room and went back to the train like
seasoned travelers. Bob was an ideal companion for such journeys, for he
never lost his head and never missed connections, while nervous haste was
unknown to him.

"Won't I be glad to see the Littells!" exclaimed Betty, watching the
porter make up their berths.

"So shall I," agreed Bob. "Did you ever know such hospitable people,
asking a whole raft of us to spend the week at Fairfields? How many did