The Lightning Conductor | Page 4

a bit; only we charged on to the
sidewalk, and butted into a shop. It was my fault, not a bit the car's. If it
weren't a splendid car it would have been smashed to pieces, and
perhaps we with it, instead of just breaking the front--oh, and the shop
too, a little. I shall have to pay the man something. He's a
"haberdasher," whatever that is, but it sounds like the sort of name he
might have called me if he'd been very angry when I broke his window.
The one bad consequence of my stupidity is that the poor, innocent,
sinned-against car must lie up for repairs. Rattray says they may take
some days. In that case Aunt Mary and I must do our shopping in a
hired brougham--such an anti-climax; but Rattray promises that the
dear thing shall be ready for our start to France on the 19th. Meanwhile,
I shall console myself for my disappointment by buying an outfit for a
trip--a warm coat, and a mask, and a hood, and all sorts of tricky little
things I've marked in a perfectly thrilling catalogue.
Now, if you fuss, I shall be sorry I've told you the truth. Remember the
axiom about the bad penny. That's
Your

MOLLY.

THE HORRIBLE RESTAURANT OF THE BOULE D'OR,
SURESNES, NEAR PARIS,
November 28.
Forgive me, dear,
long-suffering-because-you-couldn't-help-yourself-Dad, for being such
a beast about writing. But I did send you three cables, didn't I? Aunt
Mary would have written, only I threatened her with unspeakable
things if she did. I knew so well what she would say, and I wouldn't
have it. Now, however, I'm going to tell you the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth--no varnish. Indeed, there isn't much varnish
left on anything.
I wonder if I can make you comprehend the things I've gone through in
the last two or three days? Why, Dad, I feel old enough to be your
mother. But I'll try and begin at the beginning, though it seems, to look
back, almost before the memory of man, to say nothing of woman. Let
me see, where is the beginning, when I was still young and happy?
Perhaps it's in our outfit for the trip. I can dwell upon that with
comparative calmness.
Even Aunt Mary was happy. You would have had to rush out and take
your "apoplectic medicine," as I used to call it, if you could have seen
her trying different kinds of masks and goggles, and asking gravely
which were most becoming. Thank Heaven that I've inherited your
sense of humour! To that I have owed my sanity during the last dies
irae. (Is that the way to spell it?)
I wouldn't have the conventional kind of mask, nor goggles. Seeing
Aunt Mary in her armour saved me from that. I bought what they call a
"toilet mask," which women vainer than I wear at night to preserve
their complexions. This was only for a last resort on very dusty days, to
be hidden from sight by a thin, grey veil, as if I were a modern prophet

of Korassan.
We got dust-grey cloaks, waterproof cloth on the outside, and lined
with fur. Aunt Mary invested in a kind of patent helmet, with curtains
that unfurl on the sides, to cover the ears; and I found myself so
fetching in a hood that I bought one, as well as a toque, to provide for
all weathers. Then we got a fascinating tea-basket, foot-warmers that
burn charcoal, and had two flat trunks made on purpose to fit the back
of the car, with tarpaulin covers to take on and off. Our big luggage we
planned to send to places where we wanted to make a long stay; but we
would have enough with us to make us feel self-contained and
independent.
We did look ship-shape when we started from the "Carlton" on the
morning of November 19th, with our luggage strapped on behind, the
foot-warmers and tea-basket on the floor, our umbrellas in a
hanging-basket contrivance, a fur-lined waterproof rug over Aunt
Mary's knees and mine. I'd taken no more lessons since that first day I
wrote you about, owing to the car not being ready until the night before
our start, so Rattray sat in front alone, Aunt Mary and I together
behind.
We meant to have got, off about eight, as we had to drive over fifty
miles to Newhaven, where the car was to be shipped that night; but
Rattray had a little difficulty in starting the car, and we were half an
hour late, which was irritating, especially as a good many people were
waiting to see us off. At last, however, we shot away in fine style,
which checked Aunt Mary in the middle