disappears in pursuit of new friendships,
canine or human. He has then not only to be retrieved, which is usually
an affair of twenty minutes, but has to be caressed for an extra five by
his mistress, who never fails to abandon hope of seeing him again the
moment he is out of sight.

To test the quality of Miss Van Buren's resolutions, I asked her to take
the seat beside the driver, expecting some excuse; but she came like a
lamb; and the taste of conquest was sweet in my mouth.

In Haarlem all had proved such good motorists that, despite the ferocity
of Amsterdam trams, I was scarcely prepared for the emotions which began
to seethe in the _tonneau_ the moment the car was started and the
chauffeur had sprung to his place at my feet. According to my idea,
there's no courage in reckless driving, but selfishness and other less
agreeable qualities; still, we did not exactly dawdle as we left the
Amstel, to swing out into the tide of city life.

"Heavens, he's going to kill us!" I heard the Chaperon groan. "Ronald,
tell him to stop."

Miss Rivers was also giving vent to despairing murmurs. Tibe was
"wuffing" full-noted threats at each tram which loomed toward us, and
Starr was attempting to advise me over my shoulder that the ladies
would wish to be driven less furiously.

To my joy, Nell looked back and laughed. "Why, we're not going more than
seven miles an hour," said she.

"Then, for goodness' sake, let's go _one_," implored her chaperon. "I
never dreamed of anything so awful."

I slackened pace. "Are you an old motorist?" I inquired of my companion,
as if I were used to asking her friendly, commonplace questions.

"I never was in a car until the other day with my cousin," said she, in
the same carefully unconscious tone. "And I'm afraid in my feet and
hands now; but the rest of me is enjoying it awfully. Yes, that's the
word, I think, for it _is_ rather awful. I shouldn't have dreamed that
trams could look so big, or bridges so narrow, except in nightmares.
And--and you can't make your horn heard _much_, can you, over the noise
on the stones? Oh, there was a close shave with that wagon, wasn't it? I
felt bristling like a fretful porcupine--oh, but a stark, staring mad,
blithering, _driveling_ porcupine!"

It was delicious to have her talk to me, and to feel that because she
trusted my skill, she was not really afraid, but only excited enough to
forget her stiffness.

"Perhaps Amsterdam wouldn't be a pleasant