trip. Now he hoped she
had had enough, and would let him go back to tortoises again.

He said he had never enjoyed anything so much as seeing the car's
red-hot skeleton jump over the precipice, where it could not hurt
anyone, but would just fall quietly to pieces on the rocks.

The bride was great fun, too, and as she comes from St. Louis, it is not
likely she will cultivate tortoises. When we took them all three back to
Torquay with us, squashed in anyhow, she talked about running over to
Paris and buying a balloon or an aeroplane! We came by way of the
Buckland Chase, as it is called--private property; and an elfin glen of
beauty, for mile after mile, with the Dart singing below, and the
Lover's Leap so close that it seemed painfully realistic--especially
after the adventure of the car which leaped into space.

Sir Lionel got his coat burnt, and his hands a little, too; but he would
drive, though Young Nick might have done so as well as not.

After all we shan't get to Cornwall to-morrow! Sir Lionel says it would
be a crime to leave this part of the world without going up the Dart
(the "Rhine of England") in a boat, and seeing the beautiful old Butter
Market at Dartmouth.

I shall send you postcards from there, if I have the chance, for it's
very historic. It will be Cornwall the day after, but I shall have to
wire my next address.

With all the love of

Your Moorland Princess.

P. S. You ought to have seen Emily and Mrs. Senter fussing over Sir
Lionel when he burnt his hands! He hates being fussed over, and was
almost cross, until our eyes happened to meet, and then we both smiled.
That seemed to make him good-natured again. And he is wonderfully
patient with his sister, really.

XVII

MRS. SENTER TO HER SISTER, MRS. BURDEN, AT GLEN LACHLAN, N. B.

_White Hart Hotel, Launceston, Cornwall_,
_Aug. 10th_

My Dear Sis: It came off all right. My things usually do, don't
they? With some women, it is only their lip-salve and face powder that
come off. With me, it is plans. Luckily I inherited mamma's genius for
high diplomacy, while you, alas, only came in for her rheumatism. And by
the way, how _are_ your poor dear bones? Not devilled, I hope? Do
forgive the cheap wit. I am obliged to save my best things for Sir
Lionel. He appreciates them highly, which is one comfort; but it is
rather a strain living up to him (though I do think it will pay in the
end), and in intercourse with my family I must be