big car had sent the box of chocolates to the floor, where its contents
rolled about aggravatingly at their feet. "Come back here, Mollie
Billette, and pick them up. That's the least--"

The rest of the sentence was never uttered, for Mollie brought the car to
so sudden a stop that Grace and Betty both lurched forward and narrowly
escaped bumping their noses on the back of the seat in front of them.

"Sure," said the reckless driver, turning her bright black eyes
expectantly upon them. "Will you promise to give me all I pick up?"

"All you--" Grace was beginning, striving desperately to recover her
breath and her dignity at the same time, the accomplishment of which feat
was decidedly retarded by growing indignation. "Goodness, I never heard
such a--"

"Very well," returned Mollie, and, without deigning to parley further,
turned determinedly to the wheel. "That's all I wanted to know--"

"Just a minute, Mollie, dearest," Betty's laughing voice broke in. "You
know I'm not worrying about the chocolates at all, but I'm not
particularly anxious to spoil my perfectly good shoes with crushed
chocolate or, on the other hand, frump my perfectly good nose in a vain
attempt to pick them--"

"Which, candy or shoes?" Mollie broke in impishly.

"Candy," answered Betty soberly. "As I was saying, neither of these
alternatives appeal to me, so, with your kind permission, I would beg you
to hold your horses--"