our broadest part in your
thickest frock, and you thought they liked your society and kept your
gloves. In that mood I wouldn't have condescended to see Apollo off if
he'd been twice a god, armed with an invitation for me from Juno to a
house-party on Olympus.

No sooner, however, did I hear his dear familiar purr as he swept away
from the door of the hotel (my balcony is a corner one, and I could just
catch the well-known c-r-r-r) when I regretted intensely that I hadn't
been _en evidence_, looking indifferent. Suddenly, I suffered pangs of
apprehension lest my stopping in my room had seemed like (what it really
was) a fit of the sulks; but it was past repentance-time. Apollo was
gone, Mrs. Senter doubtless sitting by Sir Lionel's side as usual, and
probably commenting wittily on my silly conduct.

The Tyndals told me last night that they meant to start at ten, so I
went downstairs five minutes before, too late to have to wait about, too
early to be called. I expected to find them in the hall, and when they
weren't there, I strolled out to see if the motor had come to the door,
thinking they might be watching the loading up of their luggage. As for
mine, Apollo had taken it as usual, except a pretty little fitted
handbag, small and wonderfully convenient, which Sir Lionel came across
in a shop and bought for me (I mean for Ellaline) at Torquay. But there
wasn't a Tyndal in sight, and not so much as the smell of a motor-car,
so I wandered inside and asked the handsome landlady, whom I met near
King Arthur's Round Table, whether she had seen the Tyndal automobile or
its owners.

"Why," said she, "they went off about ten minutes ago."

"Went off--where?" I asked blankly.

"To Bideford, I think they were going," she replied.

"That can't be, for I was to have gone with them," said I.

"Indeed?" exclaimed the landlady, polite but puzzled. "I didn't know. I
thought you had gone with your own party. I was surprised to meet you
here just now. I'm afraid there must have been some misunderstanding,
for certainly Mr. and Mrs. Tyndal and their young cousin have really
gone, because they bade me good-bye here in the hall, and said they
hoped to come back some day."

She looked at me pityingly, and I felt exactly like Robinson Crusoe
before he knew there was going to be a Friday; but, like him, I kept a
stiff upper lip. I am happy to say I even laughed. "Well, that's very
funny," said I, as if being pigeon-holed by Sir Lion