ay?"

The boy started.

"Yes, sir. I--I think I did."

He was really extraordinarily nervous.

"That's right," I continued. "We were on the way back from Cauterets.
By the way, I see you've got one of the new models. How does she go?"

We walked down to the gate, talking easily enough....

By the time the others arrived, the two-seater's bonnet was open, and I
had promised to teach him to change speed without taking out the clutch.

"Isn't that sweet?" said Jill's voice.

My companion started upright.

"You like it?" he said, flushing.

"I think it's wonderful," said my cousin.

So it was.

I have seen many mascots. But, seated upon the cap of the radiator, a
little silver reproduction of the Ares Ludovisi knocked memories of
nymphs, hounds, and urchins into a cocked hat.

"I'd like you to have it," said the boy suddenly. "Which is your car?"

"Oh, but I can't take it," cried Jill breathlessly. "It's awfully
generous of you, but I couldn't think of----"

"Well, let's just see how it looks. You were in the first car, weren't
you?"

It was about a thousand to one against the two caps being
interchangeable, but the miracle came off. Once Ares was in his new
seat, nothing would induce his owner to disestablish him.

"Keep him to-day, at least," he insisted. "Please do. I think
it--it'll bring me luck."

"You're awfully kind," said Jill. "Why did you run away?"

Daphne took my arm and called Berry. Together we strolled up the
terrace. Jonah was showing Adele the points of the two-seater.

"Who," said my sister, "is this attractive youth?"

"I've not the faintest idea," said I. "But he's staying at Pau."

"Well, Jill's got off," was the reply. "They're like a couple of
children."

"Ah!" said Berry unexpectedly.

"What on earth's the matter?" said Daphne.

"Listen," rejoined her husband. "I've laid an egg--metaphorically.
We're all terrified of Jill getting pinched--again
metaphorically--aren't we? Very good. Let's encourage this
friendship. Let it swell into an attachment. They're far too young to
think about marriage. Of course, we shan't see so much of her, but, as
the sainted Martin said, half a cloak's better than no bags."

"Dear lad," said Daphne, slipping her arm through his, "you're not
laying at all. You're getting broody." With that, she turned to me.
"And what do you think about it?"

"He's a gentleman," said I. "And he's a child. Children, I suppose,
att