ld Almond sleep the sleep of the just until the earliest
crack of dawn. Then I shall wake him, have my Napier got ready--if that
hasn't been done overnight--pay him, press an extra tip into his not
unwilling palm, pack him off to England, home, and beauty, after which I
shall romp back to the sleeping farmhouse on my own good car.

My story to Miss Randolph will be that while in Blois yesterday I heard
from my master. He is called back to England in a great hurry, wants to
leave his car, and would be delighted to let it out on hire at
reasonable terms if driven by a good, responsible man--like me. I
suppose I shall have to name a sum--say a louis a day--or she'll suspect
some game.

She is sure to snatch at a chance, as a drowning man at a straw, and I
pat myself on the back for my inspiration. I am looking forward to a new
lease of life with the Napier.

The window grows grey; I must call Almond. How the Plan works out you
shall hear in my next. _Au revoir_, then.

Your more than ever excited friend,
Jack Winston.

MOLLY RANDOLPH TO HER FATHER

Amboise,
_November Something-or-Other_.

Dear old Lamb,

Did you know that you were the papa of a chameleon? An eccentric
combination. But Aunt Mary says she has found out that I am one--a
chameleon, I mean; but I don't doubt she thinks me an "eccentric
combination" too. And, anyway, I don't see how I can help being
changeable. Circumstances and motor-cars rule dispositions.

I wrote you a long letter from Blois, but little did I think then--no,
_that_ isn't the way to begin. I believe my starting-handle must have
gone wrong, to say nothing of my valves--I mean nerves.

Last night we broke down at the other end of nowhere, and rather than
desert Mr. Micawber, alias the automobile, I decided to stop till next
morning at a wayside farmhouse--the sort of place, as Aunt Mary said,
"where anything might happen."

Of course, I needn't have stayed. The Frenchman I told you about in my
last letter offered to take us and some of our luggage on to Amboise on
his little car; but I didn't feel like saying "yes" to that proposal,
and I was sorry for poor Brown, who had worked like a Trojan. Besides,
to stay was an adventure. Monsieur Talleyrand stopped too, and we had
quite a nice supper in a big farm kitch