all."

"All?" I echoed. "It's the most impudent thing I ever heard of. Didn't
you tell him that you wouldn't go, that you--"

"Well, I'd like to know what good my saying _'Wouldn't'_ could do? I
can't stop the yacht."

"It's Count Corramini's yacht, not the Prince's," I said, "and whatever
else they may be, they're gentlemen, at least by birth. They can't run
off with us like this against our wills."

Aunt Kathryn actually chuckled. "Well, they _have_, anyhow," she
retorted. "And the Prince says, if only we knew what the road to Cattaro
was like, I'd thank instead of scolding him."

"Nonsense!" I exclaimed. "We must go back. What's to become of Beechy
left alone in Ragusa ill, with nobody but Mr. Barrymore and Sir Ralph to
look after her? It's monstrous!"

"Yes, of course," said Aunt Kathryn, more meekly. "But Signorina Bari's
there. It isn't so dreadful, Maida. Beechy isn't _very_ sick. She'll be
well to-morrow, and when they find we're gone, which they can't till
late this afternoon, they won't waste time motoring down; they'll take a
ship which leaves Ragusa in the morning for Cattaro. The Prince says
they're sure to. We'll all meet by to-morrow noon, and meanwhile I guess
there's nothing for us to do but make the best of the joke they've
played on us. Anyway, it's an exciting adventure, and you like ad--"

"You call it a joke!" I cried. "I call it something very different. Let
me speak to the Prince."

I sprang up, forgetting poor Airole asleep on my lap, but Aunt Kathryn
scrambled out of her low chair also, and snatched my dress. "No, I'm not
going to have you insult him," she exclaimed. "You shan't talk to him
without me. He's _my_ friend, not yours, and if I choose to consider
this wild trick he's playing more a--a compliment than anything else,
why, it won't hurt you. As for Beechy, she's _my_ child, not yours."

This silenced me for the moment, but only until the men appeared. "Are
we forgiven?" asked the Prince.

"Maida's very angry, and so am I, of course," replied Aunt Kathryn,
bridling, and showing both dimples.

"Dear ladies," pleaded the Count, "I wouldn't have consented to help
this mad friend of mine, if he hadn't assured me that you were too much
under the influence of your rather reckless chauffeur, who would
probably break your bones and his companion's car, in his obstinate
determination to go down to Cattaro by motor."

"Why, lately the Prince has been encouraging it!" I interrupted.