"The waiter, who can speak
some English, has been frightening her ladyship," said he. "After the
day before yesterday she's grown a bit timid, and to hear that the cold
she has suffered from is nothing to what she may have to experience
higher up, and later in the day, as the sun gets down behind the
mountains, has put her off motoring. It seems we can go on from here by
train to Clermont-Ferrand and that's what she wants to do. I hate
deserting the car, but after all, this _is_ an expedition of pleasure,
and if her ladyship has a preference, why shouldn't it be gratified?"

"Quite so, sir," responded the chauffeur, his face a blank.

"My first thought on making up my mind to the train was to have the car
shipped at the same time," went on Sir Samuel, "but it seems that can't
be done. There's lots of red tape about such things, and the motor might
have to wait days on end here at Marvels, before getting off, to say
nothing of how long she might be on the way. Whereas, I've been
calculating, if you start now and go as quick as you can, you ought to
be at the chateau" (he pronounced it 'chattoe') "before us. Our train
doesn't leave for more than an hour, and it's a very slow one. Still, it
will be warm, and we have cards and Tauchnitz novels. Then, you know,
you can unload the luggage at the chateau and run back to the railway
station at Clermont-Ferrand, see to having our big boxes sent out
(they'll be there waiting for us) and meet our train. What do you think
of the plan?"

"It ought to do very well--if I'm not delayed on the road by snow."

"Do you expect to be?"

"I hope not. But it's possible."

"Well, her ladyship has made up her mind, and we must risk it. I'll
trust you to get out of any scrape."

The chauffeur smiled. "I'll try not to get into one," he said. "And I'd
better be off--unless you have further instructions?"

"Only the receipt for the luggage. Here it is," said Sir Samuel. "And
here are the keys for you, Elise. Her ladyship wants you to have
everything unpacked by the time she arrives. Oh--and the rugs! We shall
need them in the train."

"Isn't mademoiselle going with you?" asked my brother, showing surprise
at last.

"No. Her mistress thinks it would be better for her to have everything
ready for us at the 'chattoe.' You see, it will be almost dinner-time
when we get there."

"But, sir, if the car's delayed--"

"Well," cut in Sir Samuel, "we must chance it, I'm afraid. The fact is,
h