showroom--a large landaulette of a well-known make, upholstered in
palest fawn, fitted with every newest device, very sumptuous and very
shiny.

They described it minutely to Pamela before she went with them to see it
and fix definitely.

"It runs beautifully," said David.

"It's about fifty horse-power," said Jock.

"And, Honourable," said Mhor, "it's got electric light inside, just like
a little house, and all sorts of lovely things--a clock and--"

"And, I suppose, hot and cold water laid on," said Pamela.

"The worst thing about it," Jean said, "is that it looks _horribly_
rich--big and fat and purring--just as if it were saying, 'Out of the
way, groundlings' You know what an insolent look big cars have."

"Your small deprecating face inside will take away from the effect,"
Pamela assured her; "and you need a comfortable car to tour about in.
When do you go exactly?"

"On the twentieth," Jean told her. "We take David first to Oxford, or
rather he takes us, for he understands maps and can find the road; then
we go on to Stratford. I wrote for rooms as you told me, and for seats
for the plays, and I have heard from the people that we can have both. I
do wish you were coming, Pamela--won't you think better of it?"

"My dear, I would love it--but it can't be done. I must go to London
this week. If we are to be married on first June there are simply
multitudes of things to arrange. But I'll tell you what, Jean. I shall
come to Stratford for a day or two when you are there. I shouldn't be a
bit surprised if Biddy were there too. If he happened to be in England
in April he always made a pilgrimage to the Shakespeare Festival.
Mintern Abbas isn't very far from Stratford, and Mintern Abbas in spring
is heavenly. _That's_ what we must arrange--a party at Mintern Abbas.
You would like that, wouldn't you, Jock?"

"Would Richard Plantagenet be there? I would like awfully to see him
again. It's been so dull without him."

Mhor asked if there were any railways near Mintern Abbas, and was
rather cast down when told that the nearest railway station was seven
miles distant. It amazed him that anyone should, of choice, live away
from railways. The skirl of an engine was sweeter to his ears than horns
of elf-land faintly blowing, and the dream of his life was to be allowed
to live in a small whitewashed shanty which he knew of, on the
railway-side, where he could spend ecstatic days watching every
"passenger" and every "go