d. What was my joy, then, in the morning,
when Rattray came and deigned to inform me that he had found out the
cause of the worst mischief! "The connecting-rod that worked the magnet
had got out of adjustment, and so the timing of the explosions was
wrong." This could be made right, and he would see to the belts and
chains. In a few days we might be ready to get away, with some hope of
better luck.

I was so pleased I gave him a louis. Afterwards I wished I hadn't--but
that's a detail. I sent you a cable, just saying, you'll remember:
"Elysee Palace for a week; all well"; and Aunt Mary and I proceeded to
drown our sorrows by draughts of undiluted Paris.

Crowds of Americans were at the hotel, a good many I knew; but Aunt Mary
and I kept dark about the automobile--very different from that time in
London, where I was always swaggering around talking of "my motor-car"
and the trip I meant to take. _Poor_ little me!

Mrs. Tom van Wyck was there, and she introduced me to an Englishwoman,
Lady Brighthelmston, a viscountess, or something, and you pronounce her
"Lady Brighton." She's near-sighted and looks at you through a
lorgnette, which is disconcerting, and makes you feel as if your
features didn't match properly; but she turned out to be rather nice,
and said she hoped we'd see each other at Cannes, where she's going
immediately. She expects her son to join her there. He's touring now on
his motor-car, and expects to meet her and some friends on the Riviera
in about a fortnight. Mrs. van Wyck told me he's the Honourable John
Winston, and a very nice fellow, but I grudge him an automobile, which
_goes_.

I just _couldn't_ write to you that week in Paris; not that I was too
busy--I'm never too busy to write to my dear old boy. But I knew you'd
expect to hear how I enjoyed the trip, and I didn't want to tell you the
bad news till perhaps I might have good news to add. Consequently I
cabled whenever a writing-day came round.

Well, at last Rattray vowed that the car was in good condition, and we
might start. It was a whole week since I'd seen the monster, and it
looked so handsome as it sailed up to the hotel door that my pride in it
came back. It was early in the morning, so there weren't many people
about, but I shouldn't have had cause to be ashamed if there had been.
We went off in fine style, and it was delicious driving through the
Bois, en route for Orleans, by way of Versailles. After all, I said to
myself, perha