(I had never heard the name until this morning, but there are some
things which you seem to have been born knowing; and I was in a mood to
stake my life upon Lady MacNairne.)

"It is better that you see my mother," said Cousin Robert.

"It will be sweet of her to call on us."

"I do not think she can do that. She is too large; and she does not
easily move from Scheveningen. But if she writes you a note, to ask you
and Miss Rivers, you will go, is it not?"

"With pleasure," I said, "if it isn't too far. You see, Lady MacNairne
may arrive soon, and when she does----"

"But now I will see my mother, and I will bring back the letter. I will
drive with an automobile which a friend has lent me--Rudolph Brederode;
and when you have read the note, you will both go in the car with me to
Scheveningen to stay for all night, perhaps more."

"Oh, we couldn't think of staying all night," I exclaimed. "We'll stop
here till----"

"It is not right that you stop here. I will go now, and, please, you
will pack up to be ready."

"We haven't unpacked yet," I said. "But we couldn't possibly--for one
thing, your mother may not find it convenient."

My cousin Robert's jaw set. "She surely will find it convenient."

"What people you Dutch are!" the words broke from me.

He looked surprised. "We are the same like others."

"I think you are the same as you used to be hundreds of years ago, when
you first began to do as you pleased; and I suppose you have been doing
it ever since."

Cousin Robert smiled. "Maybe we like our own way," he admitted.

"And maybe you get it!"

"I hope. And now I will go to order the automobile." He glanced at his
watch, an old-fashioned gold one. "In an hour and a quarter I will be at
Scheveningen. Fifteen minutes there will be enough. Another hour and a
quarter to come back. I will be for you at four."

"You don't allow any time for the motor to break down," I said.

"I do not hope that she will break down. She is a Dutch car."

"And serves a Dutch master. Oh no; certainly she won't break down."

He stared, not fully comprehending; but he did not pull his mustache, as
an Englishman does, when he wonders if he is being chaffed. He shook
hands with us gravely, and bowed several times at the door. Then he was
gone, and we knew that if he didn't come back at four with that letter
from his mother, it would be because she--or the motor--was more Dutch
than he.

When he disappeared, Phil and I went out