ecting to hear from one of my dearest girl chums,
Molly Breckenridge--"

"Oh, and is she going with us?"

"Aunt Betty made me ask her. She said you wanted us to make up the
party, and include Gerald and yourself."

"That's the very idea. It's your trip, Dorothy, given in honor of
your home-coming."

"I'm sure that's nice of you, Aurora. And now let's discuss--"

"Pawdon me, Miss Dorot'y," interrupted Ephraim, entering at this
moment. "I--I--er--good mawnin', Miss Aurory."

"Good morning, Ephy," Dorothy's visitor responded. "Has anyone told
you that you are to become a chauffeur?"

"W'at's dat, Miss Aurory? A show fer? A show fer w'at?"

"A chauffeur, Ephy, is a man who drives an automobile."

"One o' dem fellers dat sets up in de front seat en turns de steerin'
apparatus?"

"Exactly. How would you like to do that?"

"I ain't nebber monkeyed round dem gasoline contraptions none, but I
reckon I'd like tuh do w'at yo' say, Miss Aurory--yas'm; I jes'
reckon I would."

"Well, Gerald is coming over some time to-day to show you and Jim a
few things about the car. You will take turns playing chauffeur on
our camping trip, and he wants to give you a lesson every day until
we leave."

"Dat suah suits me," grinned the old negro.

"But what did you want, Ephy?" Dorothy asked, recalling him suddenly
to his errand.

"Oh, Lordy, I done fergit w'at I come fo'. Lemme see--oh,
yas'm, I got er lettah fo' yo'. Jes' lemme see where I put dat
doggone--er--beggin' yo' pawdon, young ladies, I--Heah hit is!"

The letter, fished from one of Ephraim's capacious pockets, was
quickly handed over.

"Oh, it's from Molly!" the girl cried, joyously, as she looked at the
postmark. "Let's see what she has to say. You may go, Ephy."

"Yas'm," responded the darkey, and with an elaborate bow he departed.

Tearing open the letter, Dorothy read as follows:

"_My Dear, Dear Chum_:--

"To say that I was overwhelmed by your very kind invitation,
is to express it mildly, indeed. The surprise was complete.
I had hardly realized that you had finished your course at
Oak Knowe and returned to Baltimore. It is strange how
rapidly the time flies past.

"We returned from California, some two weeks ago. Papa is
greatly improved in health, for which we are all duly
thankful. He says he feels like a new man and his actions
bear out his words. He wants to know how his little Dorothy
is, an