ed, quarrelled, and even danced in the street under our windows,
while those in the hotel had apparently been advised by their physicians
to run up and down stairs for hours without stopping, for the good of
their livers.

It was a busy night for everybody, and my one consolation was in
planning the dreadful tortures I would inflict on the whole population
of Cuneo if I were King of Italy. I thought of some very original
things, but the worst of it was, when I did finally fall asleep I
dreamed that they were being tried on me.

XIII

A CHAPTER OF WILD BEASTS

"The dear thing! How nice to see it again! I could kiss it," I heard
Maida saying. Something was snorting dreadfully, too. I'm not sure which
waked me. But I sleepily asked Maida what it was she could kiss.

"Why, the automobile, of course," she replied. "Now, Beechy, _don't_
drop off again. It's down there in the courtyard. Can't you hear it
calling? This is the third time I've tried to wake you up."

"Oh, I thought it was the Ten of Clubs roaring, while I dipped him
repeatedly into boiling cod-liver oil," I murmured; but I jumped out of
bed and dressed myself as if the house were on fire.

Mamma said that she had been up since six; and I knew why; she hadn't
liked to make herself beautiful under the eyes of Maida, so exquisitely
adorned by Nature. But she was fresh and gay as a cricket.

In the _salle a manger_ were Sir Ralph and Mr. Barrymore, who had
brought the motor from the machine shop. He looked as well tubbed and
groomed as if he had had two hours for his toilet, instead of twenty
minutes; and we laughed a great deal as we told our night adventures,
feeling as if we'd been friends for months, if not years. It was much
nicer without the Prince, I thought, though Mamma kept glancing at the
door, and showed her disappointment on learning that he had stolen off
to sleep at Alessandria. Joseph, it seemed, had telegraphed him this
morning about the water-wheel, and the news that his automobile couldn't
be ready till twelve or one o'clock.

As we thankfully turned our backs on Cuneo we realized why it had been
given a name signifying "wedge," because of the two river torrents, the
Stura and Gesso, that whittle the town to a point, one on either side.
For a while we ran smoothly along a road on a high embankment, which
reminded Sir Ralph and the Chauffeulier of the Loire; less beautiful
though, they thought, despite the great wedding-ring of whi