the least arrogant, but the result of a serene
self-surety that somehow accorded with his lithe, trained grace of
movement. A judge of men would have read him an athlete, perhaps in an
unusual line.

"Yes, sir," the chauffeur replied. "I'll get Miss Ffrench home in no
time after I get the tire on."

The indiscretion of the spoken name was ignored, except for a slight
lift of the hearer's eyebrows.

"How long does it take you to change a tire?"

"About half an hour; it's night, of course."

An odd, choking gurgle sounded from the gray machine, where a dark
figure had sat until now in quiescent muteness.

"Half an hour!" echoed the gray machine's driver, and faced toward the
chuckle. "Rupert, it isn't in your contract, but do you want to come
over and change this tire?"

"I'll do it for you, Darling," was the sweet response; the small
figure rolled over the edge of the car with a cat-like celerity.
"Where are your tools, you chauffeur? Quick!"

The bewildered chauffeur mechanically reached for a box on the
running-board, as the young assistant came up, grinning all over his
malign dark face.

"Oh, quicker! What's the matter, rheumatism? They wouldn't have you in
a training camp for motor trucks on Sunday. Hustle, _please_."

There never had been anything done to that sedate limousine quite as
this was done. Even the preoccupied girl looked on in fascination at a
rapidity of unwasted movement suggesting a conjuring feat.

"By George!" exclaimed her escort. "A splendid man you've got there!
Really, a splendid chauffeur, you know."

The driver smiled with a gleam of irony, but disregarded the comment.

"Would you like to get into your car?" he asked the girl. "You will be
able to start very soon."

"I see that," she acknowledged gratefully. "Thank you; I would rather
wait here."

"Is your chauffeur trustworthy?"

"Oh, yes; he has been in my uncle's employ for three years. But he was
never before out here, in this place."

There was a pause, filled by the soft monotone of insults drifting
from the side of the limousine, for Rupert talked while he worked and
his fellow-worker did not please him.

"Wrench, baby hippo! Oh, look behind you where you put it--you need a
memory course. You ought to be passing spools to a lady with a
sewing-machine. Did you ever see a motor-car before? There, pump her
up, do." He rose, drew out his watch and glanced at it. "Five minutes;
I'll have to beat that day after to-mor