," she said.
"We all do, don't we? But I don't love Lord Lindfield's motor. I do
hope they will be in time for dinner. Otherwise the table is
absolutely upset, and I shall have to settle it all over again.
Isn't it rather inconsiderate of them, Aunt Alice? I think they
ought to have caught their train, whether it was Brahms or not."

But the loyalty was an effort. Lady Nottingham felt that, and applauded
the effort.

"Poor Daisy!" she said, speaking in these two words her unspoken
thought. "It is too bad of them to give you more trouble."

"Oh, I don't mind just arranging the table again," said Daisy, quickly.

CHAPTER XII.

A rearrangement of the table proved to be necessary, since at half-past
eight Lord Lindfield's motor had not yet been heard of. But in spite of
the absentees, it was a hilarious party that sat down. Some had been on
the river, some had strolled about the garden, and all were disposed to
enjoy themselves immensely. Jim Crowfoot had not ceased talking at all,
and showed at present not the slightest sign of doing so. He took Daisy
in to dinner.

"They are probably sitting by the roadside," he said, "singing Brahms to
each other, while the chauffeur lies underneath the car hammering it,
with his feet just sticking out, and trying to screw the throttle into
the waste-pipe of the carburetter. Why does nobody invent a motor car
without a carburetter? It is always that which is at the root of the
trouble. And the shades of evening will thicken, and they will sing
louder and louder, as night draws on, to check their rising sensations
of cold and hunger and fear, while the chauffeur swiftly and firmly
reduces the car to scrap-iron. I think it is so interesting when
somebody doesn't arrive. Their absence gives rise to so many pleasing
conjectures. What are we going to do to-morrow, Miss Daisy?"

"Oh, nothing, I hope," said she. "Why? Do you want to do anything?"

"No, but if I was expected to do anything, I wished to know the worst at
once. What I like best of all is to sit in a chair and not read. The
chair ought to be placed at some railway station, and a succession of
people should be provided to run by me with heavy bags in their hands
just missing their trains. The next best thing to doing nothing yourself
is to observe everybody else trying to do something, like catching
trains, and not succeeding. My uncle once missed eight trains in one
day, and then tried to commit suicide. But next d