ppled over the faces of the various groups as a breeze ruffles
the surface of a pond.

If I could have done His Highness Prince Dalmar-Kalm a mischief at this
moment, without imperilling my whole future, I would have stuck at
nothing; but there is capital punishment in France, and, besides, there
were no weapons handy except the ladies' hatpins. Still, it was useless
denying it, the car looked, if not like a market-woman, at least like a
disreputable old tramp of the motor world, with its wreaths of luggage
looped on anyhow, as if it were a string of giant sausages; and I hated
the Prince not only for his impertinent pleasure in our plight, but for
the proud magnificence of his car, which gained new lustre in the
disgrace of ours.

"You have more, what do you call it in English--cheek, is it not?--than
most of your countrymen, to ask the ladies whether they can be satisfied
with _that_," he went on, between his mirthful explosions. "_Chere_
Countess, do not let your kind heart run away with you. Let me tell Sir
Ralph Moray that it is impossible for you to tour with him under such
conditions, which are surely not what you had a right to expect. If you
will go with me, _that_"--pointing a derisive finger at the
Panhard--"can follow with the luggage."

Mrs. Kidder shook her auburn head, though her dimples were obscured, and
a pinkness of complexion for which she had not paid betrayed the fact
that her _amour propre_ was writhing under this ordeal. Poor little
woman, I really pitied her, for even with my slight knowledge of her
character, I guessed that she had dreamed of the sensation the departure
_en automobile_ of a party so distinguished would create at the hotel.
She had confidingly judged the charms of the advertised car from those
of the advertisers, and this was her reward. Could we blame her if, in
the bitterness of mortification, she yielded to the allurement of that
glittering car which was our detractor's best argument? But she was
loyal on the rack.

"No," she said, "I never backed out of anything yet, and I'm not going
to now. Besides, we don't want to, do we, girls? Sir Ralph's automobile
is just as nice as it can be, and it's our fault, not his, or Mr.
Barrymore's, if we've got a little more luggage than we were told we
ought to take. I guess we'll get along all right as soon as we're used
to it, and we shall have _the_ time of our lives."

"Mamma, you're a brick, and I'm glad Papa married you," was Be