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THE MOTOR GIRLS ON CRYSTAL BAY
A WORRIED GIRL
Four girls sat on four chairs, in four different corners of the room. They sat on the chairs because they were really too tired to stand longer, and the reason for the occupancy of the corners of the apartment was self-evident. There was no other available space. For the center of the chamber was littered to overflowing with trunks, suitcases and valises, in various stages of being packed, and from them overflowed a variety of garments and other accessories of a journey.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Cora Kimball, as she gazed helplessly about, "will we ever be finished, Bess?"
"I don't know," was the equally discouraging reply. "It doesn't seem so; does it?"
"I'm sure I can't get another thing in my suitcase," spoke the smallest girl of all, who seemed to shrink back rather timidly into her corner, as though she feared she might be put into a trunk by mistake.
"Oh, Marita! You simply must get more in your suitcase!" exclaimed Cora, starting up. "Why, your trunk won't begin to hold all the rest of your things unless you crowd more into the case."
"The only trouble, Cora," sighed Marita, "is that the sides and top aren't made of rubber."
"There's an idea!" cried a plump girl, in the corner nearest the piano. "A rubber suitcase! What a boon it would be for week-ends, when one starts off with a Spartan resolution to take only one extra gown, and ends up with slipping two party dresses and the 'fixings' into one's trunk. Oh, for a rubber suitcase!"
"What's the sense in sighing after the impossible?" asked the girl opposite the plump one. "Why don't you finish packing, Bess?"
"Why don't you?" and the plump one rather glared at her more frail questioner.
"Cora Kimball!"
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