In a second I understood.  I knew now, without asking, where he had spent his night.  Poor fellow—­after such a day!

Someone spoke to him—­someone who had been making that disturbing noise in the woodshed.  The household was astir, and I would be astir, too.  I didn’t yet know what was to happen to-day, but I wanted to know, and I was prepared to find any plan good, since, in a country like this, all roads must lead to Adventures.  My one fear was, that if the Turnours took to a boat, I should have to go with them to play cloak-bearer, or hot-water-bag-carrier, while the car whirled away, free and glorious.  The thought of a whole day in my master’s and mistress’s society, undiluted by the saving presence of my adopted brother, was like bolting a great dry crust of yesterday’s bread.  What an indigestion I should have!

I was too wise, however, to betray the slightest anxiety one way or the other; for if her ladyship suspected me of presuming to have a preference she would punish me by crushing it, even if inconvenient to herself.  I was exquisitely meek and useful, lighting her fire (with wood brought me by Jack) supplying her with hot water, and wrangling with the landlady over her breakfast, which would have consisted of black coffee and unbuttered bread, had it not been for my exertions.  Breakfasts more elaborate were unknown at Ste. Enemie; but coaxings and arguments produced boiled eggs, goats’ milk, and confiture, which I added to the repast, and carried up to Lady Turnour’s room.

No definite plans had been made even then; but harassed Sir Samuel told his chauffeur to engage a boat, and have it ready “in case her ladyship had a whim to go in it.”  The motor was to be in readiness simultaneously, and then the lady could choose between the two at the last moment.

Thus matters stood when my mistress appeared at the front door, hatted and coated.  At last she must decide whether she would descend the rapids of the Tarn (quite safe, kind rapids, which had never done their worst enemies any harm), or travel by a newly finished road through the gorge, in the car, missing a few fine bits of scenery and an experience, but, it was to be supposed, enjoying extra comfort.  There was the big blue car; there was the swift green river, and on the river a boat with two respectful and not unpicturesque boatmen.

“Ugh! the water looks hideously cold and dangerous,” she sighed, shivering in the clear sunlight, despite her long fur coat.  “But I have a horror of the motor, since yesterday.  I may get over it, but it will take me days.  It’s a hateful predicament—­between two evils, one as bad as the other.  I oughtn’t to have been subjected to it.”

“Dane says everyone does go by the river.  It’s the thing to do,” ventured Sir Samuel, becoming subtle.  “They’ve put a big foot-warmer in the boat, and you can have your own rugs.  There’s a place where we land, by the way, to get a hot lunch.”