teful, then?"

"I don't know what you are," he answered. "I only know that if I looked
at you long as you are now I should make an ass of myself--and make you
detest or despise me. So good night--and good appetite."

He turned to go, but I called him back. "Please!" I begged. "I'll only
keep you one minute. I'm sure you're joking, big brother, about being an
ass, or poking fun at me. But I don't care. I need some advice so badly!
I've no one but you to give it to me. I know you won't desert me,
because if you were like that you wouldn't have come to stop at this
hotel to watch over your new sister--which I'm sure you did, though
that may sound ever so conceited."

"Of course I won't desert you," he said. "I couldn't--now, even if I
would. But I'll go away till you've had your dinner, and--and made
yourself look less like a siren and more like an ordinary human
being--if possible. Then I'll run up and knock, and you can come out in
the passage to be advised."

"A siren--with a towel round her neck!" I laughed. "If I should sing to
you, perhaps you might say--"

"Don't, for heaven's sake, or there would be an end of--your brother,"
he broke in, laughing a little. "It wouldn't need much more." And with
that he was off.

He is very abrupt in his manner at times, certainly, this strange
chauffeur, and yet one's feelings aren't exactly hurt. And one feels,
somehow, as I think the motor seems to feel, as if one could trust to
his guidance in the most dangerous places. I'm sure he would give his
life to save the car, and I believe he would take a good deal of trouble
to save me; indeed, he has already taken a good deal of trouble, in
several ways.

When he had gone I set down the tray, shut the door, and went to see how
I really did look with my hair hanging round my shoulders. My ideas on
the subject of sirenhood are vague; but I must confess, if the creatures
are like me with my hair down, they must be quite nice, harmless little
persons. I admire my hair, there's so much of it; and at the ends, a
good long way below my waist, there's such a thoroughly agreeable curl,
like a yellow sea-wave just about to break. Of course, that sounds very
vain; but why shouldn't one admire one's own things, if one has things
worth admiring? It seems rather ungrateful to Providence to cry them
down; and ingratitude was never a favourite vice with me.

One would have said that the chauffeur knew by instinct what I liked
best to eat, a