to call the feeling they had when they were looking
forward to any event with a mixture of excitement, fear, and
embarrassment.

Well, I have the "wombles" when I think of the moment, near at hand,
when Miss Randolph will hand me my weekly wage, which I have put at the
modest figure of fifty francs a week; but I am getting away from the
_dejeuner_ at Chambord.

We had just finished the _croute au pot_, when there came a whirr!
outside, upon which Miss Randolph looked questioningly at me. "A little
Pieper," I said. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Can you really tell
different makes of cars just by their sound?" "Anyone can do that," I
informed her, "with practice; you will yourself by the time you get to
the end of this journey. Each car has its characteristic note. The De
Dion has a kind of screaming whirr; the Benz a pulsing throb; the
Panhard a thrumming; a tricycle a noise like a miniature Maxim."

The driver of the Pieper came in. His get-up was the last outrageous
word of automobilism--leather cap with ear-flaps, goggles and mask, a
ridiculously shaggy coat of fur, and long boots of skin up to his
thighs--a suitable costume for an Arctic explorer, but mighty fantastic
in a mild French winter. You know these posing French automobilists. At
sight of a beautiful girl, he made haste to take off his hat and
goggles, revealing himself as a good-looking fellow with abnormally long
eyelashes, which I somehow resented. He preened himself like a bird,
twisted up the ends of his black moustache, and prepared for conquest.
Catching Miss Randolph's eye, he smiled; she answered with that
delightful American frankness which the Italian and the Frenchman
misconstrue, and in a moment they were talking motor-car as hard as they
could go. The poor _chauffeur_ was ignored.

It undermines one's sense of self-importance to find how quickly one can
be unclassed. I tasted at this moment the mortification of service. Once
in an hotel at Biarritz I gave to the _valet de chambre_ a hat and a
couple of coats that I didn't want any more. They were in good
condition, and he was overwhelmed with the value of the gift. "Monsieur
is too kind," the fellow said; "such clothes are too good for me. They
are all right for you, but for _nous autres_!"--the "others," who
neither expect the good things of life nor envy those who have them. The
expression implies the belief that the world is divided into two
parts--the ones and the other ones.

Now,