(here she glanced at me); but she hadn't
mentioned the fire when wiring, because things seemed worse in
telegrams, and besides, it would have been a useless expense. No doubt
it had been stupid of her, but she had fancied he would certainly see it
in the paper, with all details, and therefore guess why she was meeting
him.

"We have nowhere to take Miss Lethbridge," said she, "since Graylees
Castle will be overrun with workmen for some time to come. I didn't know
but you might feel it would be best, after all, for us to put her again
in charge of her old schoolmistress for a few weeks."

If hair could really rise, mine would have instantly cast out every
hairpin, as if they were so many evil spirits, and have stood out all
around my head like Strumpelpeter's. Yet there was nothing I could say.
If I were mistress of a dozen languages, I should have had to be
speechless in every one. But I saw Sir Lionel looking at me, and I
hastily gave him a silent treatment with my eyes. It had the most
satisfactory effect.

"No, I don't think we will take her back to Madame de Maluet's," said
he. "Madame may have made other plans for the holiday season. Perhaps
she is going away."

"I'm sure she is," said I. "She is going to visit her mother-in-law's
aunt."

Sir Lionel was still looking at me, lost in thought. (I forget if I
mentioned that he has nice eyes? I haven't time to look back and see if
I did, now. I'm scribbling as fast as I can. We shall soon land, and I
want to post this at Dover, if I can get an English stamp "off" someone,
as "Sissy" Williams, our only British neighbour, says.)

"How would you like a motor-car trip?" Sir Lionel asked abruptly.

The relief from suspense was almost too great, and I nearly jumped down
his throat, so, after all, it would have been my own fault if the Dragon
had eaten me. "I should _adore_ it!" I said.

"My dear!" protested Mrs. Norton, indulgently. "One adores Heavenly
Beings."

"I'm not sure a motor-car isn't a heavenly being," said I, "though
perhaps without capitals."

The Dragon smiled, but she looked awfully shocked, and no doubt blamed
Madame de Maluet.

"I've a forty-horse Mercedes promised to be ready on my arrival," said
Sir Lionel, still reflective. "You know, Emily, the little
twelve-horse-power car I had sent out to East Bengal was a Mercedes. If
I could drive her, I can drive a bigger car. Everybody says it's easier.
And young Nick has learned to be a first-rate