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Well, you know the rest–how Tish, trying to find how the gears worked, side-swiped the Bonor car and threw it off the field and out of the race; how, with the grandstand going crazy, she skidded off the track into the field, turned completely round twice, and found herself on the track again facing the way she wanted to go; how, at the last lap, she threw a tire and, without cutting down her speed, bumped home the winner, with the end of her tongue nearly bitten off and her spine fairly driven up into her skull.

All this is well known now, as is also the fact that Mr. Ellis disappeared from the judges’ stand after a word or two with Mr. Atkins, and was never seen at Morris Valley again.

Tish came out of the race ahead by half the gate money–six thousand dollars–by a thousand dollars from concessions, and a lame back that she kept all winter. Even deducting the twenty-five hundred she had put up, she was forty-five hundred dollars ahead, not counting the prize money. Charlie Sand brought the money from the track that night, after having paid off Mr. Ellis’s racing-string and given Mr. Atkins a small present. He took over the prize money to Jasper and came back with it, Jasper maintaining that it belonged to Tish, and that he had only raced for the honor of Morris Valley. For some time the money went begging, but it settled itself naturally enough, Tish giving it to Jasper in the event of–but that came later.

On the following evening–Bettina, in the pursuit of learning to cook, having baked a chocolate cake–we saw Jasper, with his arm in a sling, crossing the side lawn.

Jasper stopped at the foot of the steps. “I see a chocolate cake cooling on the kitchen porch,” he said. “Did you order it, Miss Lizzie?”

I shook my head.

“Miss Tish? Miss Aggie?”

“I ordered it,” said Bettina defiantly–“or rather I baked it.”

“And you did that, knowing what it entailed? He was coming up the steps slowly and with care.

“What does it entail?” demanded Bettina.

“Me.”

“Oh, that!” said Bettina. “I knew that.”

Jasper threw his head back and laughed. Then:–

“Will the Associated Chaperons,” he said, “turn their backs?”

“Not at all,” I began stiffly. “If I–“

“She baked it herself!” said Jasper exultantly. “One–two. When I say three I shall kiss Bettina.”

And I have every reason to believe he carried out his threat.

* * * * *

Eliza Bailey forwarded me this letter from London where Bettina had sent it to her:–

Dearest Mother: I hope you are coming home soon. I really think you should. Aunt Lizzie is here and she brought two friends, and, mother, I feel so responsible for them! Aunt Lizzie is sane enough, if somewhat cranky; but Miss Tish is almost more than I can manage–I never know what she is going to do next–and I am worn out with chaperoning her. And Miss Aggie, although she is very sweet, is always smoking cubeb cigarettes for hay fever, and it looks terrible! The neighbors do not know they are cubeb, and, anyhow, that’s a habit, mother. And yesterday Miss Tish was arrested, and ran a motor race and won it, and to-day she is knitting a stocking and reciting the Twenty-third Psalm. Please, mother, I think you should come home.

Lovingly, BETTINA.

P.S. I think I shall marry Jasper after all. He says he likes the Presbyterian service.

I looked up from reading Eliza’s letter. Tish was knitting quietly and planning to give the money back to the town in the shape of a library, and Aggie was holding a cubeb cigarette to her nose. Down on the tennis court Jasper and Bettina were idly batting a ball round.

“I’m glad the Ellis man did not get her,” said Aggie. And then, after a sneeze, “How Jasper reminds me of Mr. Wiggins.”

The library did not get the money after all. Tish sent it, as a wedding present, to Bettina.