t fetch
her himself, but gave _carte blanche_ for everything a girl could
possibly want in travelling, except a father.

I told you about the high-powered French motor car. Well, there's an
even higher powered French maid. She's the kind that you could describe
as "and suite," without the slightest snobbishness or exaggeration, when
registering your name in the visitors' book at a hotel. The car, which
Larry told Pat to buy for herself as a birthday present from him, is
forty horsepower, I believe; whereas I'm much mistaken if Angele isn't
about a hundred demon-power. She's geared terribly high, can "crank"
herself I should imagine, and has the smartest new type of body, all
glittering paint and varnish. Isn't it _nice_ that her name should be
Angele? It wasn't the Mother Superior who engaged this guardian angel
for Miss Moore, but the dear old Paris friend of Larry's who advised the
convent in the first place. Angele was _her_ maid, taken over from a
princess--an Albanian one, or something Balkanic or volcanic. The old
friend is a Marquise, and my opinion is that her genius lies in finding
safe harbours for incubuses (_is_ there such a word, or should it be
"incubi?"). Heaven knows what explosive thing may happen if the
high-powered Angele doesn't fancy her new garage and petrol.

Besides the car and the maid, Mademoiselle Patsey is bringing with her
to America a regular trousseau for her debut, which is to take place in
the grand manner. She won't let me see Larry's photograph because it
doesn't do him justice, and because she wants him to burst upon me as a
brilliant surprise; but she has shown me as much of the trousseau as her
stateroom and Angele's can contain. The rest's in the hold, and forms
quite a respectable cargo. If everything comes off as Patsey expects it
to do (and after all, as I said, why shouldn't it?) I do think that she
and her charm and her clothes are likely to dazzle New York. Nothing
prettier can have happened there or anywhere for a long time.

By the way, did _you_ ever hear of a Laurence Moore of Long Island,
whose place is called Kidd's Pines? There may be half a directory
bursting with Laurence Moores, but there can be only one with an address
like Kidd's Pines. It's named after a clump of pines supposed to be a
kind of landmark for treasure buried by Captain Kidd. Either the
treasure is buried under the trees, somewhere between their roots and
China, or the pines point to it. Can pines