“Don’t disappoint us—­ say you’ll enter!” urged Mr. Stone.  “You don’t know us, of course, but I have taken the liberty of introducing myself, If you are acquainted with any of the cottagers on the lake shore, or on Triangle Island, you can ask them about us.”

“Oh, we are very glad you invited us,” replied Betty, quickly.  She did not want the young men to think that she resented anything.  Besides, if what Grace thought about them was so, they would want a chance to inquire about the young men more closely, perhaps, than the young men themselves would care to be looked after.  For Betty recalled what Grace had said—­ that her father had a faint idea that perhaps the motorists might have acted as they did purposely, to get possession of the papers.

“Then you’ll enter?” asked Mr. Kennedy.

“We can’t be sure,” spoke Betty, who seemed to be doing all the talking.  “Our plans are uncertain, we have no very definite ones, though.  We intended merely to cruise about, and perhaps camp on one of the islands for a few days.  But if we find we can, we will at least take part in the water pageant—­ that is, in the parade with the other boats.”

“And we’d like you to be in the races,” suggested Mr. Kennedy.  “Your boat has very fine lines.  What horse power have you?”

“It is rated twenty,” answered Betty, promptly, proud that she had the knowledge at her tongue’s end, “but it develops nearer twenty-five.”

“Then you’d go in Class B.” said Mr. Stone.  “I will enter you, tentatively at least, for that race, and if you find you can’t compete, no harm will be done.  There are some very handsome prizes.”

“Oh, do enter, Bet!” exclaimed Mollie in a whisper, for she was fond of sports of all kinds.  “It will he such jolly fun!”

Betty looked at her aunt.  Racing had not entered into their plans when they talked them over with the folks at home.

“I think you might; they seem very nice, and we can easily find out if other girls are to race,” said Aunt Kate, in a low voice.

“You may enter my boat, then,” said Betty, graciously.

“Thank you!” exclaimed Mr. Stone.  “The Gem goes in, and her captain’s name—­ ?”

“Miss Nelson.”

“Of—­ ?” again he paused suggestively, pencil poised.

“Of Deepdale.”

“Oh, yes, I have been there.  I am sure you will not regret having decided to enter the regatta.  Now if you would like to tie up for the night there are several good public docks near here.  That one over there,” and he pointed, “is used by very few other boats, and perhaps you would like it.  Plenty of room, you know.”

“Thank you,” said Betty.  “We shall go over there.”

“I will send you a formal entry blank to-morrow,” said Mr. Stone, as his companion started the motor, and a moment later they were rushing off in a smother of foam thrown up by the powerful racing craft.

“Well, what do you think of that?” gasped Mollie, when they had gone.  “No sooner do we arrive than we are plunged into the midst of—­ er—­ the midst of—­ what is it I want to say?” She laughed and looked about for assistance.