-ups think
themselves obliged to use when they're entertaining children. If he had
only known it, I should have been quite equal to entertaining _him_; but
I was a victim to my pigtails and six inches of black silk stocking.

"Do you like motoring?" he asked, conscientiously.

"Yes," said I. "And it _is_ a fine day. And I would rather travel than
go to school. And I admire Europe almost as much as America So you
needn't bother about asking me those questions. You can begin right now
with something you would really _like_ to ask."

He laughed. "As you're so fastidious, I'd better consider a little," he
said.

"Maybe it would save time if I should suggest some subjects," said I,
"for I suppose we'll be at Tenda soon, even though the Prince's car is
as big as a house, and this hill is as steep as the side of one. Would
you like to ask me about Mamma's Past?"

"Good gracious, what do you take me for?" exclaimed Mr. Barrymore.

"I haven't decided yet," I replied, "though the Prince has talked to me
quite a good deal about you."

"Has he, indeed? What does he know about me?" and our magnificent
chauffeur turned suddenly so red under his nice dark skin, that I
couldn't help wondering if, by any chance, the Prince were the least
little bit right about his being an adventurer. I almost hoped he was,
for it would make things so much more romantic. I felt like saying,
"Don't mind me, my dear young sir. If you've anything to conceal about
yourself, I shall like you all the better." But what I really did say
was that the Prince seemed much more interested in people's Pasts than
he--Mr. Barrymore--appeared to be.

"My future is more interesting to me than my own past, or any one
else's," he retorted. But I thought that he looked a little troubled, as
if he were racking his brain for what the Prince could have let out, and
was too proud or obstinate to ask.

"You _are_ selfish," I said. "Then there's no use my trying to make this
ride pleasant for you, by telling you anecdotes of my past--or Maida's."

At this his profile changed. I can't say his "face" because he was
steering a great deal more than was flattering to me, or necessary in
going up hill. Would the fish bite at that last tempting morsel of bait?
I wondered. The Prince would have snapped at it; but though Mr.
Barrymore's title is only that of chauffeur, he is more of a gentleman
in his little finger than the Prince in his whole body. He may be an
adventurer, bu