My Friend the Chauffeur
find something to tow us, as we towed Dalmar-Kalm (a mere mule will
answer as well as a motor) to that station, where we can put the car on
the train and be at Cuneo in no time. The guide-books say that Cuneo's
interesting, and anyhow there are hotels of sorts there--also machine
tools, a forge, a lathe, and things of that kind which we can't carry
about with us."
"What a splendid adventure!" exclaimed Maida. "I love it; don't you,
Beechy?"
I answered that I entertained a wild passion for it; but all the same, I
wished I'd mentioned it first.
This settled Mamma's attitude towards the situation. She saw that it was
_young_ to enter into the spirit of the adventure, so she took the cue
from us and flung herself in with enthusiasm enough to make up for her
crossness.
"Somebody must go on an exploring expedition for a mule," said Mr.
Barrymore, "and as I'm the only one whose Italian is fairly fluent, I
suppose I must be the somebody. Miss Destrey, would you care to go with
me for the sake of a little exercise?"
In another minute I would have volunteered, but even thirteen-year-olds
have too much pride to be the third that makes a crowd. Gooseberry jam
is the only jam I don't like; so I kept still and let them go off
together, chaperoned by the little black dog. Sir Ralph stood by the
automobile talking to Mamma while I wandered aimlessly about, though I
could tell by the corner of his eye that she didn't occupy his whole
attention.
Just to see what would happen, I suddenly squatted down by the side of
the road, about twenty yards away, and began to dig furiously with the
point of my parasol. I hadn't been at work for three minutes when I was
rewarded. "The Countess has sent me to ask what you are doing, Miss
Beechy," announced a nice voice; and there was Sir Ralph peering over my
shoulder.
"I'm looking for one of my poor relations," said I. "A worm. She's sent
up word that she isn't in. But I don't believe it."
"I'm glad my rich relations aren't as prying as you are," said he. "I
often send that message when it would be exceedingly inconvenient to
have further inquiries pressed. Not to rich relations, though, for the
very good reason that they don't bother about me or other poor worms,
who have not my Felicite to defend them."
"Who's Felicite?" I asked, not sorry to keep Sir Ralph for my own sake
or that of Mamma--who was probably taking advantage of his absence to
put powder on her nose and pink stuff on her lips, by the aid of her
chatelaine mirror.
"Who's Felicite? You might as well ask who is the Queen of England.
Felicite is my cook--my housekeeper--my guide, philosopher and friend;
my all."
"That dear, fat duck who brought us tea the day we were at your house?"
"I have two ducks. But Felicite was the one who brought you the tea. The
other eats mice and fights the cat. Felicite doesn't eat mice, and
fights me."
"I loved her."
"So do I. And I could love you for loving her."
"Perhaps you'd better not."
"Why? It's safe and allowable for men of my age to love little girls."
"I'm different from other little girls. You said so yourself. Besides
what is your age?"
"Twenty-nine."
"You look about nineteen. Our Chauffeulier looks older than you do."
"Chauffeulier? Oh, I see, that's your name for Terry. It's rather
smart."
"I call it a title, not a name," said I. "I thought he ought to have
one, so I dubbed him that."
"He ought to be complimented."
"I mean him to be."
"Come now, tell me what name you've invented for me, Miss Beechy."
I shook my head. "You've got a ready-made title. But you look too boyish
to live up to it. The Chauffeulier would come up to my idea of a baronet
better than you do."
"Oh, you don't have to be dignified really to be a baronet, you know.
Terry--er--you mustn't mention to him that I told you; but he may be
something a good deal bigger than a baronet one day."
"He's a good deal bigger than a baronet now," said I, laughing, and
measuring Sir Ralph from head to foot. "But what may he be one day?"
"I mustn't say more. But if you're at all interested in him, that will
be enough to fix your attention."
"What would be the good of fixing my attention on him, if that's what
you mean," I inquired, "when he's got his attention fixed upon another?"
"Oh, you mustn't judge by appearances," said Sir Ralph hastily. "He
likes you awfully; though, of course, as you're so young, he can't show
it as he would to an older girl."
"I shall grow older," said I. "Even before we finish this trip I shall
be a _little_ older."
"Of course you will," Sir Ralph assured me soothingly. "By that time,
Terry will, no doubt, have screwed up courage to show you how much he
likes you."
"I shouldn't have thought he lacked courage," said I.
"Only where girls are concerned," explained Sir Ralph.
"He seems brave enough with my cousin Maida. It's Mamma and me he
doesn't say much to, unless we speak to him first."
"You see he's horribly afraid of being thought a fortune-hunter. He's
almost morbidly sensitive in that way."
"O-oh, I see," I echoed. "Is that the reason he's so stand-off with
us--because he knows we're rich?"
"Yes. Otherwise he'd be delightful, just as he is with Miss Destrey,
with whom he doesn't have to think of such things."
"You're fond of him, aren't you?" I asked, beginning again to dig for
the worm; for Sir Ralph was squatting beside me now, watching the point
of my parasol.
"Rather!" he exclaimed. "He's the finest fellow on earth. I should like
to see him as happy as he deserves to be."
"But you don't want him to fall in love with Maida?"
"That's the last thing I should choose for either of them. Though it's
early to talk of such contingencies, isn't it, as they've known each
other--we've all known each other--only a few days?"
"It only takes a few minutes for the most important things to happen,
such as being born and dying. _Why_ should falling in love take more? It
wouldn't with me."
"You're young to judge."
"Pooh, I've been in love several times. Now I come to think of it, I'm
in love this moment--or almost. _Why_ don't you want Mr. Barrymore to
fall in love with my cousin?"
"It would be imprudent."
"Perhaps you're falling in love with her yourself."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"If you'll tell me whether you are or not, I'll tell you who it is I
_think_ I'm in love with."
"Well, I _could_ be. Now for your secret."
"I give you leave to guess."
"Really?"
"And truly."
"Some one we've just been talking about?"
"'I could be.' Oh dear, I believe this worm _is_ out after all."
"This is most interesting. I don't mean about the worm. Terry's in luck
for once."
"But he thinks me a little girl."
"Little girls can be fascinating. Besides, I'll make it my business to
remind him that little girls don't take long to grow up."
"Will you really? But you won't let him know about this talk?"
"Sooner would I be torn in two by wild motor-cars. These confidences are
sacred."
"I'll say nice things about you to Maida," I volunteered.
He stared for a minute, and then laughed. "I should tell you not to if I
weren't certain that all the nice things in the world might be said on
that subject with no more effect upon Miss Destrey than a shower of rain
has on my duck's back. You must try and help me not to fall in love with
her."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because, for one reason, she'd never fall in love with me; and for
another, I couldn't in any event afford to love her, any more than can
my friend Terry Barrymore."
"Perhaps I'd better work her off on the Prince, and then you'd both be
out of danger," said I.
"It would at least save me anxiety about my friend, though I should
doubtless suffer in the process," replied Sir Ralph.
"I'll comfort you whenever I have time," I assured him.
"Do," he entreated. "It will be a real charity. And in the meantime, I
shan't be idle. I shall be working for you."
"Thank you ever so much," said I. "I should be glad if you'd report
progress from time to time."
"I will," said he. "We'll keep each other up, won't we?"
"Be-echy!" shrieked Mamma. "I've been screaming to you for the last
_twenty_ minutes. Come here at once and tell me what you're doing. It's
sure to be something naughty."
So we both came. But the only part that we mentioned was the worm. X
XII
A CHAPTER OF HORRORS
It is wonderful how well it passes time to have a secret understanding
with anybody; that is, if you're a girl, and the other person a man. Mr.
Barrymore and Maida seemed hardly to have gone before they were back
again; which pleased me very much. In attendance was a man with a
mule--a grinning man; a ragged and reluctant mule; which was still more
reluctant when it found out what it was expected to do. However, after a
fine display of diplomacy on our Chauffeulier's part, and force on that
of the mule's owner, the animal was finally hitched to the automobile
with strong rope.
Mr. Barrymore had to sit in the driver's seat to steer, while the man
led the mule, but we others decided to walk. Mamma's heels are not quite
as high as her pride (when she's feeling pretty well), so she preferred
to march on the road rather than endure the ignominy of being dragged
into even the smallest of villages behind the meanest of beasts.
A train for Cuneo was due at Limone, it seemed, in an hour, and we could
walk there in about half that time, Mr. Barrymore thought. He had made
arrangements with the _capo di stazione_, as he called him, to have a
truck in readiness. The automobile would be put on it, and the truck
would be hitched to the train.
Maida and I were delighted with everything; and when Mamma grumbled a
little, and said this sort of thing wasn't what she'd expected, we
argued so powerfully that it was much more fun getting what you did not
expect, than what you did, that we brought her round to our point of
view, and set her laughing with the rest of us.
"After all, what does it matter, as long as we're all young together?"
said she, at last; and then I knew that the poor dear was happy.
Sir Ralph considered Limone an ordinary Italian village, but it seemed
fascinating to us. The fruit stalls, under overhanging balconies, looked
as if piled with splendid jewels; rubies, amethysts and pearls, globes
of gold, and silver, and coral, as big as those that Aladdin found in
the wonderful cave. Dark girls with starry eyes and clouds of hair stood
gossipping in old, carved doorways, or peered curiously down at us from
oddly shaped windows; and they were so handsome that we liked them even
when they doubled up with laughter at our procession, and called their
lovers and brothers to laugh too.
Men and women ran out from dark recesses where they sold things, and
from two-foot-wide alleys which the sun could never have even seen,
staring at us, and saying "molta bella" as Maida passed. She really was
very effective against the rich-coloured background--like a beautiful
white bird that had strayed into the narrow village streets, with
sunshine on its wings. But she didn't seem to realize that she was being
looked at in a different way from the rest of us. "I suppose we're as
great curiosities to them, as they are to us," she said, lingering to
gaze at the gorgeous fruit, or some quaint Catholic emblems for sale in
dingy windows, until Sir Ralph had to hurry her along lest we should
miss the train.
We were in plenty of time, though; and at the railroad depot (according
to me), or the railway station (according to Sir Ralph and our
Chauffeulier), the automobile had been got onto the truck before the
train was signalled. Our tickets had been bought by Mr. Barrymore, who
would pay for them all, as he said it was "his funeral," and we stood in