ose the "morning glory." When I'm old
I shall do differently. I'll go to bed directly after dinner and sleep
late, so that age may be short, following a long youth. Isn't that a
good plan to make on my twenty-first birthday?

Sir Lionel hadn't forgotten, and wished me many happy returns of the
day; but he didn't give me a present, so I hoped he had changed his
mind. We got back to Salisbury about the time Mrs. Norton and Mrs.
Senter were having their breakfasts in bed (they hadn't heard of our
expedition, and the word had gone out that we weren't to start for the
New Forest till after luncheon, as it would be a short run), and we had
nearly finished our tea, toast, and eggs, when Dick strolled into the
coffee-room. He seemed decidedly _intrigue_ at sight of us together at a
little table, talking cozily; and that detective look came into his eyes
which cats have when a mouse occurs to them. He laughed merrily, though,
and chaffed us on making "secret plans." Dick hasn't a very nice laugh.
It's too explosive and loud. (Don't you think other animals must
consider the laughter of humans an odd noise, without rhyme or reason?)

Also Dick has a nasty way of saying "thank you" to a waiter; with the
rising inflection, you know, which is nicely calculated to make the
servant feel himself the last of God's creatures.

By two o'clock we had said good-bye to Salisbury ("good-bye" for me, "au
revoir" for the others, perhaps), and were kinematographing in and out
of charming scenery, lovelier perhaps than any we'd seen yet. Under
green gloom of forests, where it seemed a prisoned dryad might be
napping in each tree, and where only a faun could have been a suitable
chauffeur; past heatherland, just lit to rosy fire by the sun's blaze;
through billowy country where grain was gold and silver, meadows were
"flawed emeralds set in copper," and here and there a huge dark blot
meant a prehistoric barrow.

The car played us a trick for the first time, and Young Nick, looking
more like Buddha than ever, got down to have a heart-to-heart talk with
the motor. I think Apollo had swallowed a crumb, or something, for he
coughed and wheezed, and wouldn't move except with gasps, until he had
been patted under the bonnet, and tickled with all sorts of funny
instruments, such as a giant's dentist might use. It was fun, though,
for us irresponsible ones, while Sir Lionel and Nick tried different
things to get the crumb out of Apollo's throat. Other