od, another bump, and we were still alive and
unhurt, with a buzz of voices round us--quite _unkind_ voices some of
them, though I never felt more as if I wanted kindness. It occurred to
me to open my eyes, and I found that we had brought up against the
curbstone, while one of our mud-guards had been smashed by the iron rail
of the electric street car, now stationary. Our Napier had turned
completely round. The conductor of the tram was scrutinising his
scratched rail and saying things; but Brown, who had jumped out to
examine into our damage, slyly slipped something that looked like a
five-franc piece into his hand. This reminds me, I must pay Brown back;
he can't refuse such a thing as that, though it seems he has taken a
sort of pledge against accepting tips in his professional career. Funny,
isn't it? "For a touch of new paint," I heard him murmur to the
conductor in his nice French, and that man must have been in a great
hurry to try the effect of the "touch," for no sooner did the coin
change hands than he stopped scolding, and away buzzed the big electric
bumble-bee.

"For _mercy's_ sake, what was it that happened?" gasped Aunt Mary.

"Side-slip, miss," said Brown in a tone dry enough to turn the mud to
dust, "from putting on the brakes too quickly. A driver can't be too
careful on a surface like this." Which was one for Jimmy.

The poor fellow took it with outward meekness, though I saw his eyes
give a flash--and, do you know, our blond Jimmy can look quite
malevolent! He didn't speak to Brown, but turned to me, and said the
side-slip wasn't really his fault at all; it might happen to anybody in
greasy weather; but he would be still more cautious now than before. I
didn't like to humiliate a guest by superseding him with a servant,
capable as the servant is, so I said that I hoped he _would_ be very
careful, and we started on again, somewhat chastened in our mood,
driving slowly, slowly, through interminable suburbs to a place called
Aubagne.

There was a splendid sunset after the rain, with a wonderful effect of
heavy violet cloud-curtains with jagged gold edges, drawn up to show a
clear sky of pale beryl-green; and sharp against the green were cut out
purple mountains and white villages that looked like flocks of resting
gulls. We were in wild and beautiful country by the time the thickening
clouds compelled us to stop and light our two oil-lamps and the huge
acetylene Bleriot.

There was a good deal of