we can't carry
about with us."

"What a splendid adventure!" exclaimed Maida. "I love it; don't you,
Beechy?"

I answered that I entertained a wild passion for it; but all the same, I
wished I'd mentioned it first.

This settled Mamma's attitude towards the situation. She saw that it was
_young_ to enter into the spirit of the adventure, so she took the cue
from us and flung herself in with enthusiasm enough to make up for her
crossness.

"Somebody must go on an exploring expedition for a mule," said Mr.
Barrymore, "and as I'm the only one whose Italian is fairly fluent, I
suppose I must be the somebody. Miss Destrey, would you care to go with
me for the sake of a little exercise?"

In another minute I would have volunteered, but even thirteen-year-olds
have too much pride to be the third that makes a crowd. Gooseberry jam
is the only jam I don't like; so I kept still and let them go off
together, chaperoned by the little black dog. Sir Ralph stood by the
automobile talking to Mamma while I wandered aimlessly about, though I
could tell by the corner of his eye that she didn't occupy his whole
attention.

Just to see what would happen, I suddenly squatted down by the side of
the road, about twenty yards away, and began to dig furiously with the
point of my parasol. I hadn't been at work for three minutes when I was
rewarded. "The Countess has sent me to ask what you are doing, Miss
Beechy," announced a nice voice; and there was Sir Ralph peering over my
shoulder.

"I'm looking for one of my poor relations," said I. "A worm. She's sent
up word that she isn't in. But I don't believe it."

"I'm glad my rich relations aren't as prying as you are," said he. "I
often send that message when it would be exceedingly inconvenient to
have further inquiries pressed. Not to rich relations, though, for the
very good reason that they don't bother about me or other poor worms,
who have not my Felicite to defend them."

"Who's Felicite?" I asked, not sorry to keep Sir Ralph for my own sake
or that of Mamma--who was probably taking advantage of his absence to
put powder on her nose and pink stuff on her lips, by the aid of her
chatelaine mirror.

"Who's Felicite? You might as well ask who is the Queen of England.
Felicite is my cook--my housekeeper--my guide, philosopher and friend;
my all."

"That dear, fat duck who brought us tea the day we were at your house?"

"I have two ducks. But Felicite was the one who brought yo