“I wish,” said Mrs. Medallion, “you’d do as you’re told. I ordered a
cord on his arm, and there it is. Why avoid a convenience?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Miss Woolly, “I was afraid he mightn’t
understand.”
“In that case,” said Mrs. Medallion, “we could have enlightened him.”
Head in air, she turned to survey the prospect.
“Isn’t it enchanting?” said Miss Woolly, gazing over her shoulder.
“No,” said Mrs. Medallion. “It isn’t. And I wish you wouldn’t
exaggerate. My father detested exaggeration. He said it was subversive
of conversational dignity.”
“Well, it’s very restful, any way. Look at those sheep.”
“I refuse,” said Mrs. Medallion. “We’ve passed four flocks on the road
since we left Pau, and I’m sick and tired of sheep. What is abundantly
clear is that France is a very rich land. Why doesn’t she pay her
debts?”
“I can’t imagine,” said Miss Woolly.
“I’ll tell you,” said Mrs. Medallion. “Because she and her creditors are
friends. You can’t combine friendship with business. It’s an inviolable
rule. Pull the check-string.”
The landaulette proceeded silently and at a sober pace.
Presently the road became a curling shelf, with, on the left, first, a
miniature wall, and then a ten-foot drop into gay meadows. On the right,
a rough and tumble of rock, with rags and tatters of greensward
interspersed, climbed to the mountains. Except for an open car, drawn up
by the miniature wall, and an approaching waggon, the road was empty.
As luck would have it, the waggon was about to pass the car when the
landaulette arrived. There not being room for three vehicles abreast,
the landaulette had to wait. This she did quietly enough six paces away.
The waggon went rumbling. . . .
Then the bullocks saw Mrs. Medallion’s blue parasol and sought to leave
the road. Their frantic owner strove to correct them with blows and
howls. . . .
Pipe in mouth, the fair-haired man who had been tightening a bolt
beneath the grey car’s wing watched the scene with a smile. . . .
Mrs. Medallion put up her lorgnettes.
“Desire that man to come here,” she said. “He’s my nephew.”
Miss Woolly descended and went up to Captain Rage.
“Please will you come,” she said, “and speak to Mrs. Medallion?”
Toby started violently, dropped his spanner and snatched his pipe from
his mouth.
Then, with a sickly smile, he took off his hat. . . .