ccording to design of his own, while this master was
unsuspectingly studying up ideas for it in Rome. She thought the pillar
more beautiful than the "horrid master's" work, and almost cried to hear
that the prentice had died from the mallet-stroke of the jealous
avenger. Barrie with tears in her eyes is a danger to beholders. She was
particularly adorable just then, as her hair was wet with rain (our
first rain) and curled on her forehead in little tendrils. This rain, by
the way, came on worse later, and was perhaps the original, if indirect,
cause of what might be called our villainhood--Aline's and mine.

We were pretty well drenched getting from Dragon to Chapel and from
Chapel to Dragon, though the distance was nothing, but the downpour
severe. Then, we three passengers were safely housed in the closed car
while Somerled and Vedder the chauffeur had the full benefit of the
storm. They were protected by a glass screen, but the waterspouts seemed
to find them out, and Mrs. James and Barrie were so sorry for the two
men that I felt a "luxurious slave" to cringe in shelter while others
soaked.

Vedder, by the way, interests me as a type. I thought Aline and I had
used up nearly all possible types of chauffeurs, but he's a new one, and
may prove valuable in case of future need. I understand that he was
distinguished in his remote past as a prize-fighter, then as a Cockney
coachman in London. Somerled rescued him from something or
other--prison, probably, judging by the shape of his nose (think it must
have been broken and mended in absent-minded moment by amateur) and the
look he gives me occasionally from corner of eye--like vicious horse
cowed by owner and dangerous to strangers. Barrie and Mrs. James think
him such a "quiet, nice man." It is not their business to judge
character, luckily for their illusions. My opinion of Vedder--who looks
exactly like the frog footman in Tenniel's illustrations of "Alice in
Wonderland"--is that he's a smouldering volcano. He never speaks unless
absolutely necessary, then uses as few words as possible, but his
thoughts seethe in language unfit for publication except where his
worshipped master is concerned. He also, in his way, is a victim of
Barrie MacDonald. He has mentally apportioned her to Somerled, as spoil
of battle. His vicious wall-eyes regard with distrust and hatred other
male creatures who dare to contend for the prize. If he could arrange an
accident to the Dragon witho