"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.
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