cumstances in which he visited it
were somewhat drab. Still, it's not an attractive town, and, as the
other way's shorter and the road's about twice as good----"

"I'm glad it's shorter," said Berry. "I want to get to Angouleme in
good time."

"Why?" said Jill.

Berry eyed her reproachfully.

"Child," he said, "is your gratitude so short-lived? Have you in six
slight months forgotten that at Angouleme we were given the very finest
dinner that ever we ate? A meal without frills--nine tender courses
long? For which we paid the equivalent of rather less than five
shillings a head?"

"Oh, I remember," said Jill. "That was where they made us use the same
knife all through dinner."

"And what," demanded Berry, "of that? A conceit--a charming conceit.
Thus was the glorious tradition of one course handed down to those that
followed after. I tell you, that for me the idea of another 'crowded
hour' in Angouleme goes far to ameliorate the unpleasant prospect of
erupting into the middle of an English spring."

"It's clear," said I, "that you should do a gastronomic tour. Every
department of France has its particular dainty. With a reliable list,
an almanac, and a motor ambulance, you could do wonders."

My brother-in-law groaned.

"It wouldn't work," he said miserably. "It wouldn't work. They'd
clash. When you were in Picardy, considering some _pates de Canards_,
you'd get a wire from Savoy saying that the salmon trout were in the
pink, and on the way there you'd get another from Gascony to say that
in twenty-four hours they wouldn't answer for the flavour of the
ortolans."

"Talking of gluttony," said Jonah, "if they don't bring lunch pretty
soon, we shall be late. It's past one now, and the meeting's the other
side of Morlaas. First race, two-fifteen."

I rose and strolled to the Club-house, to see the steward....

This day was the sixteenth of April, and Summer was coming in. Under
our very eyes, plain, woods and foothills were putting on amain her
lovely livery. We had played a full round of golf over a blowing
valley we hardly knew. Billowy emerald banks masked the familiar
sparkle of the hurrying Gave; the fine brown lace of rising woods had
disappeared, and, in its stead, a broad hanging terrace of delicate
green stood up against the sky; from being a jolly counterpane, the
plain of Billere itself had become a cheerful quilt; as for the
foot-hills, they were so monstrously tricked out with f