of putting in. Pethel looked so very young for his age, whereas she
would have had to be really old to look young for hers. I pitied her as
one might a governess with two charges who were hopelessly out of
hand. But a governess, I reflected, can always give notice. Love tied
poor Mrs. Pethel fast to her present situation.

As the three of them were to start next day on their tour through
France, and as the four of us were to make a tour to Rouen this
afternoon, the talk was much about motoring, a theme which Miss
Peggy's enthusiasm made almost tolerable. I said to Mrs. Pethel, with
more good-will than truth, that I supposed she was "very keen on it." She
replied that she was.

"But, darling Mother, you aren't. I believe you hate it. You're
ALWAYS asking father to go slower. And what IS the fun of
just crawling along?"

"Oh, come, Peggy, we never crawl!" said her father.

"No, indeed," said her mother in a tone of which Pethel laughingly
said it would put me off coming out with them this afternoon. I said,
with an expert air to reassure Mrs. Pethel, that it wasn't fast driving, but
only bad driving, that was a danger.

"There, Mother!" cried Peggy. "Isn't that what we're always telling
you?"

I felt that they were always either telling Mrs. Pethel something or,
as in the matter of that intended bath, not telling her something. It
seemed to me possible that Peggy advised her father about his