ith this alarming notice--"Cyclists dismount. Many
accidents. Some fatal." Stark went on unconcernedly, and Jean shouted at
him, holding desperately to the side of the car, as if her feeble
strength would help the brakes. "Stark! Stark! Didn't you see that
placard?"

"Didna catch it," said Stark, as he swung light-heartedly down an almost
perpendicular hill into the valley of the Severn.

"I do think Stark's a fool," said Jean bitterly, wrathful in the
reaction from her fright. "He does no damage on the road, and of course
I'm glad of that. I've seen him stop dead for a hen, and the wayfaring
man, though a fool, is safe from him; but he cares nothing for what
happens to the poor wretched people _inside_ the car. As nearly as
possible he had us over the parapet of that bridge."

And later, when they found from the bill at lunch-time that Stark's
luncheon had consisted of "one mineral," she thought that the way he had
risked all their lives must have taken away his appetite.

The car ran splendidly that day--David said it was getting into its
stride--and they got to Oxford for tea and had time to go and see
David's rooms before they left for Stratford. But David would let them
see nothing else. "No," he said; "it would be a shame to hurry over your
first sight. You must come here after Stratford. I'll take rooms for you
at the Mitre. I want to show you Oxford on a May morning."

It was quite dark when they reached Stratford. To Jean it seemed strange
and delicious thus to enter Shakespeare's own town, the Avon a-glimmer
under the moon, the kingcups and the daisies asleep in the meadows.

The lights of the Shakespeare Hotel shone cheerily as they came forward.
A "boots" with a wrinkled, whimsical face came out to help them in.
Shaded lights and fires (for the evenings were chilly) made a bright
welcome, and they were led across the stone-paved hall with its oaken
rafters, gate-legged tables, and bowls of spring flowers, up a steep
little staircase hung with old prints of the plays, down winding
passages to the rooms allotted to them. Jean looked eagerly at the name
on her door.

"Hurrah! I've got 'Rosalind.' I wanted her most of all."

Jock and Mhor had a room with two beds, rather incongruously called
"Anthony and Cleopatra." Jock was inclined to be affronted, and said it
was a silly-looking thing to put him in a room called after such an
amorous couple. If it had been Touchstone or Mercutio, or even Shylock,
he