for you."

"Oh, not more than two days--I couldn't."

She did not give a thought to the Russian woman, or to anything but the
baby. (Afterwards she became convinced that the whole plan had been
arranged with skilful prescience by the wicked Baroness in order that
she might have the artist to herself these few days....)

* * * * *

The departure in the freshness of the August morning was a great event.
Every one in the hotel, including the _patron_ in his cook's white
costume, the _patronne_, the grinning ape of a waiter, all the artists,
and half the village gathered to watch the motor get under way. The
lumbering ark of a car was laden with bags and trunks and bundles, for
the Americans meant to be comfortable. Then Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, their
natural amplitude swollen by their dust-coats, goggles, and veils,
mounted with stately complacency to their respective seats, and Milly
tucked herself into a corner. Then the ratlike French chauffeur
attempted to crank the engine, and perspiring, red in the face,
spluttering with oaths, made many desperate efforts to arouse his
monster. There were sympathetic murmurs from the audience. "Now he's got
her--ah--oh--no! Hang to it Pierrot, etc." Finally Pierre exploded in a
tragic _tirade_ to his employer, who sat stolidly through all the
rumpus, merely asking at the end, "What's he saying, Milly?"

"He can do nothing with the cursed beast," Milly abridged.

"That's evident," Gilbert remarked with cynical satisfaction.

"He thinks it's the water; he warned you not to come down here."

It seemed as if Milly's little trip was not to come off, after all, when
Bragdon, who had picked up some knowledge of the new machines in his
earlier singlestate, tipped up the hood and dove for the carburetor.
After a time he signalled to the Hawaiian to work the crank, and then
with a whir, a rumble, at last a clear bellow, the monster responded,
trembled, turned its snout up the narrow road, and disappeared. Milly
threw a kiss to her husband, who waved his hat in answer. He had saved
the day, and she was proud of him.

* * * * *

They had a wonderful time, in spite of Pierre and his balky car, bowling
along the winding, leafy roads not far from the sea, through little gray
stone villages whose inhabitants turned out _en masse_, including
children and animals, to witness their stately progress of ten miles an
hour. They got stuc