knocked on the head. What was my joy, then, in the morning, when Rattray came and deigned to inform me that he had found out the cause of the worst mischief! "The connecting-rod that worked the magnet had got out of adjustment, and so the timing of the explosions was wrong." This could be made right, and he would see to the belts and chains. In a few days we might be ready to get away, with some hope of better luck.
I was so pleased I gave him a louis. Afterwards I wished I hadn't—but that's a detail. I sent you a cable, just saying, you'll remember: "Elysée Palace for a week; all well"; and Aunt Mary and I proceeded to drown our sorrows by draughts of undiluted Paris.
Crowds of Americans were at the hotel, a good many I knew; but Aunt Mary and I kept dark about the automobile—very different from that time in London, where I was always swaggering around talking of "my motor-car" and the trip I meant to take. Poor little me!
Mrs. Tom van Wyck was there, and she introduced me to an Englishwoman, Lady Brighthelmstone, a viscountess, or something, and you pronounce her "Lady Brighton." She's near-sighted and looks at you through a lorgnette, which is disconcerting, and makes you feel as if your features didn't match properly; but she turned out to be rather nice, and said she hoped we'd see each other at Cannes, where she's going immediately. She expects her son to join her there. He's touring now on his motor-car, and expects to meet her and some friends on the Riviera
