eal secret must lie in the acuteness of your
guardian angel or patron saint. Vedder, who when young was a champion
boxer, is very superstitious, and Mr. Somerled allows him a large gold
medal of St. Christopher on the dashboard. St. Christopher, it seems,
has undertaken the spiritual care of motor-cars, and as by this time he
has millions under his guidance, his plans for keeping them out of each
other's way must be as complicated as the traffic arrangements of a
railway superintendent. When I contrasted the angelic behaviour of our
car with the appalling perversity of other people's, Sir S. burst out
laughing, and said that evidently I was born with the motor instinct:
that he'd seen women who took days or weeks learning these great truths,
whereas I came by them naturally. "It's remarkable what a lot of
valuable knowledge can be picked up by an enterprising princess in a
glass retort, when the dragon isn't looking!" said he.

"Princesses in glass retorts are perhaps forced to learn lessons tabooed
by dragons," I replied to this; "so if I know things or have thought
things that every other girl doesn't think or know, it's because they
were forbidden fruit. They were my only fun."

"They've made you a splendid little 'pal,' if you know what that means,"
said he. "I'm not sure the glass-retort system hasn't some advantages
for the bringing up of women. The proverb is that truth lies at the
bottom of a well. I begin to think it may be looked for in glass retorts
in the land of dragons."

"You mean that I'm truthful?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm inclined to believe, up to date, that you've remained as
transparent as the glass of your late prison."

"What makes you think so?" I wanted to know.

"Observation--partly. And the way you talk to me."

"What way?"

"Well--that's a knotty question. I can hardly explain, but----"

"I wonder," I began to think out aloud, "whether you mean that I say
what comes into my mind without being afraid you mayn't like it?"

"Er--um--perhaps that covers a good deal of the ground. But what put the
idea into your head? Why should you be afraid of me?"

"I'm not. Only--I've thought that it would be more respectful if I were.
You are so celebrated, you see. That's the first thing I heard about
you--I mean, about your being such a famous artist. I heard you were
rich too, but of course that didn't interest me so much."

"No? That proves the benefit of the glass-retort system."

"Why--how, pl