two girls--but there, I must not spoil the story for
you by telling you their secret.

Going through New England in their cars, the motor girls had a strange
experience with the gypsies, as set forth in the fourth volume. Cora
was in dire straits for a time, but with her usual good luck, and her
good sense, she finally turned the situation to the advantage of
herself and her chums.

Motoring so appealed to the girls that when they got the chance to
change from the land to the water they eagerly took it. Cora became
the owner of a fine motor boat, and in the story "The Motor Girls on
Cedar Lake," you may read of what she and her friends did with their
craft. The hermit of Fern Island had much to be thankful for, after
meeting Cora, who did him a great service.

Longing for wider waters in which to display their skill as amateur
motor-boatists, the girls went to the coast the Summer following their
experiences on Cedar Lake, and there they found the waif from the sea.
Again did Cora and her chums take advantage of an opportunity to
befriend an unfortunate.

The experiences of that Summer were talked of nearly all of the
following Winter. Now warm weather had come again, and with it the
desire to be flitting to a watering place. Crystal Bay, as I have
said, was selected, and of the start for that place I have already
told.

Cora, walking back through the coaches, looking from side to side for
Freda, found herself wondering what had caused the sudden change in
her former companion.

"She was considered well-off at school," murmured Cora, as she saw her
friend half way down the second coach, "but she never appeared fond of
money. Now the loss of it seems to have changed her terribly. I wonder
if it can be--just money?"

Cora reached the seat where Freda was, with her face turned toward the
window.

"Well, I am here, you see," announced Cora, pleasantly. "I left them
to shift for themselves a while. They do seem to depend so much on
me."

"That's because you are always doing things for others," said Freda,
and there was a suspicious brightness in her eyes.

"Then I hope I can do something for you!" exclaimed Cora, earnestly.
"Come, Freda, dear, tell me your troubles--that is, if you would like
to," she added quickly, not wishing to force a confidence for which
the other might not be ready.

"Oh, Cora, dear, of course you know I want to--it isn't that! Only I
don't like to pile my worries on you."

"Go on--i