bound to say that she should like to see it; and--almost before the last
word was out of her mouth--the garage was rung up by telephone.

The car arrived with startling promptness, and if Angela had been given
time to think it might have occurred to her that there was not, perhaps,
as much competition for this new invention as the hotel clerk had implied.
The inventor, who was driver and chauffeur as well, bore a striking
resemblance to a sulky codfish, but his half-boiled eyes lighted up and
glittered (even as his car glittered with blue paint), at the prospect of
business. Other vehicles were now being produced by a firm who had bought
his patent, said he, but at present his own; appropriately named the
"Model," was the "only one running." He lifted the brilliant bonnet, and
revealed intricate things, all new and silvery and glistening like
crystallized sugar. Angela fell an easy victim. She knew nothing about the
mechanical virtues and vices of cars, though she had two at home for her
own use, and the Prince a dozen, valued only less than his aeroplanes.
Hers had been gray and dark green. She had always wanted a blue car, and
this was a lovely colour. Though she was no more vain than a pretty young
woman ought to be, she consented to an experimental run, with an undertone
of conviction that the car would become her as a background.

As she made her decision, Kate arrived, breathless with the excitement of
bargaining, to find her mistress on the curbstone.

"Oh, ma'am!" she panted. "I've _done_ it! I've got five hundred dollars in
me pocket!"

"And they've got the bag," Angela regretfully murmured.

"Yes, ma'am, they have. Unless they've sold it since. Such a fine