uld see Eyelashes didn't like that suggestion a little bit,
consequently I welcomed it. It's very well to dance about and give
advice, quite another thing to do the work yourself; but I gleefully
stood aside while he grasped the starting-handle. It takes both strength
and knack to start that car, and he had neither. At first he couldn't
get the handle round against the compression; then, exerting himself
further, there came a terrific back-fire--the handle flew round, knocked
him off his feet, and sent him staggering, very pale, into the arms of a
white-aproned waiter. I couldn't help grinning, and I fancy Miss
Randolph hid a smile behind her handkerchief.

Eyelashes was furious. "It is a horror, that German machine!" he cried.
"Such a thing has no right to exist. Look at mine!" He darted to his
Pieper, gave one twist of the handle, and the motor instantly leaped
into life. Everyone murmured approval at this demonstration of the
superiority of France, or rather, Belgium, to Germany; but next moment I
had got our motor to start. The ladies dubiously took their places, and
under the critical dark eyes of Miss Barrow I steered out into the
streets of Blois.

I will spare you the detailed horrors of the next few hours. It seemed
to me that to keep that car going one must have the agility of a monkey,
the strength of a Sandow, and the resourcefulness of a Sherlock Holmes.
Almost everything went wrong that could go wrong. Both chains
snapped--that was trifling except for the waste of time, but finally the
exhaust-valve spring broke. It was getting dusk by this time, and to
replace that spring was one of the grisliest of my automobile
experiences. To get at it I had to lift off all the upper body of the
car and take out both the inlet and the exhaust valves. As darkness came
on, Miss Randolph (who took it all splendidly and laughed at our
misfortunes) held a lamp while I wrestled with the spring and valves.
The Frenchman, who had kept close to us on his irritatingly perfect
little Pieper, I simply used as a labourer, ordering him about as I
pleased--my one satisfaction. After an hour's work (much of the time on
my back under the car, with green oil dripping into my hair!) I got the
new spring on, and we could start again. Then--horror on horror's
head!--we had not gone two miles before I heard a strange clack! clack!
and looking behind, saw that one of the back tyres was loose, hanging to
the wheel in a kind of festoon, like