With a happy laugh, Billie jumped into her seat behind the wheel. The other girls were already in their accustomed places. One of the attendants from the hotel gave the crank a dexterous twist; there was a throbbing sound of machinery in action, and off shot the Comet like a spirited horse, eager to be on the road.
Miss Campbell's spirits rose with the sun, for it was still very early when the Motor Maids started on their famous journey across the continent from Chicago to San Francisco. And all the world seemed to be in league to make the start a happy one. It was a glorious morning toward the last of May, the air just frosty enough to make the blood tingle and bring color to the cheeks. Up to the very day before, an icy gale had blown across the windy city of the plains, but through the night it had gradually tempered into a springtime breeze. The red car sped through the sunshine with all the vigor of machinery in perfect order, and the polished plate glass of the wind guard reflected the four happy faces of the Motor Maids off on a lark, which, when all is said and done, and the last page of this volume filled, will have carried them through many an adventure along the way.
Through Chicago they whirled, past fine homes where sleepy maids and butlers were just opening windows and blinds to let in the morning light; through business streets already humming with life, and at last out through the suburbs on a broad level road, due west, they took their course.
Billie knew it all like a book because she had been stopping in Chicago for a week and every day they had taken a spin in the Comet along some fifty miles of the route. Moreover, for a month past, she had been studying maps and guide-books until her mind reflected now only a great bird's-eye view of the United States through the center of which was drawn a red line; the road the Comet was to take when it bore them to the Pacific Ocean.
There was nothing now, however, in these flat, monotonous wheat fields to promote any particular interest. But there was much to talk about.
"Was it only last week that we were four school girls at West Haven High School slaving over examinations?" cried Elinor Butler.
"Only a little week ago," exclaimed Mary joyfully, "and now, behold us, free as birds on the wing."