The Chauffeur and the Chaperon | Page 7

"Managers of hotels aren't engaged to advise young women about
motor-boats."
"Well, then, a--a waiter."
"A waiter!"
"We could ask the head one. And, anyway, he would be a man."
"My darling child, have we ever depended on a man since your father
died?"
"We've never had emergencies, except taking our flat--oh, and buying
my type-writer. Besides, I can't bear all I shall have to bear without a
cup of tea."
This settled it. We climbed into that frail shell, our chosen cab, and I
opened the Dutch phrase-book which I bought in London. I wanted to
find out what hotel was nearest to the lair of our boat, but in that wild
moment I could discover nothing more appropriate than "I wish
immediately some medicine for seasickness," and (hastily turning over
the pages) "I have lost my pet cat." I began mechanically to stammer

French and the few words of German which for years have lain
peacefully buried in the dustiest folds of my intellect.
"Oh, dear, how shall I make him understand what we want?" I groaned,
my nerves quivering under the pitying eye of the cabman, and the
early-Christian-martyr expression of Phyllis.
"Don't ask me," said she, in icy vengefulness; "you would bring me to
Holland, and I shouldn't speak Dutch if I could."
"I spik Eengleesh," announced the cabman.
I could have fallen upon his bosom, which, though littered with dust
and grease-spots, I was sure concealed a noble heart. But I contented
myself with taking him into my confidence. I said we had a motor-boat,
and wanted to go to a hotel as near it as possible. I then showed the
precious paper with the "i's" and "j's" dotted about, and he nodded so
much that his tall hat, which looked like a bit cut out of a rusty
stove-pipe, almost fell off on my nose.
"You get on my carriage, and I drive you to where you want," he
replied reassuringly, making of our luggage a resting-place for his
honest boots, and climbing into his seat.
Magnetized by his manner, we obeyed, and it was not until we had
started, rattling over the stone-paved street, that Phil bethought herself
of an important detail.
"Wait a moment. Ask him if it's a nice hotel where he's taking us."
I stood up, seized the railing of the driver's seat to steady myself, and
shrieked the question above the noise of the wheels.
"I take you right place," he returned; and I repeated the sentence to
Phyllis.
"That's no answer. Ask him if it's respectable; we can't go if it isn't. Ask
him if it's expensive; we can't go if it is."

I yelled the message.
"I take you hotel by-and-by. You see Rotterdam a little first."
"But we don't want to see Rotterdam first. We want breakfast.
Rotterdam by-and-by."
A sudden bump flung me down onto the hard seat. I half rose to do
battle again; then, as I gazed up at that implacable Dutch back, I began
dimly to understand how Holland, though a dot of a nation, tired out
and defeated fiery Spain. I knew that no good would be accomplished
by resisting that back. Short of hurling ourselves out on the stones, we
would have to see Rotterdam, so we might as well make the best of it.
And this I urged upon Phil, with reproaches for her niggardliness in not
buying Baedeker, who would have put stars to tell us the names of
hotels, and given us crisp maps to show where they were situated in
connection with other things.
I should think few people who have lived in Rotterdam for years have
really seen as much of the town as we saw on this clear blue morning.
At first the information bestowed upon us by the owner of the back
seemed an adding of insult to injury. How dared he explain what he
was forcing us to see in spite of ourselves? But, by-and-by, even
Phyllis fell to laughing, and her dimples are to her temper what
rainbows are to thunder-showers--once they are out there can be no
more storm.
"I feel as if we'd seen samples of all Holland, and were ready to go to
our peaceful home again," said Phil, after we'd driven about from the
region of big shops and imposing arcades, to shady streets mirroring
brown mansions in glassy canals; on to toy villages of miniature
painted houses, standing in flowery gardens, far below the level of
adjacent ponds adorned with flower-islands; through large parks and
intricate plantations; past solemnly flapping windmills; far beyond, to
meadows where black and white cows recognized the fact that we were
not Dutch and despised us for it; then back to parks and gardens again.
"I shouldn't think there could be any sort