The Chauffeur and the Chaperon

								

unfortunately wrote a postcard, and told poor dear Captain Noble you
envied him having it. It's said to be as good as new; so there's one
comfort, you can sell it second-hand, and perhaps get as much money as
he has left me."
I came very near falling down again in the bath with an awful splash,
beneath the crushing weight of disappointment, and the soap slipping
under my foot.
"Two hundred pounds and a motor-boat--instead of all those thousands!" I
groaned--not very loudly; but Phil heard me through the door.
"Never mind, dearest," she called, striving, in that irritating way
saints have, to be cheerful in spite of all. "It's better than nothing.
We can invest it."
"Invest it!" I screamed. "What are two hundred pounds and a motor-boat
when invested?"
Evidently she was doing a sum in mental arithmetic. After a few seconds'
silence she answered bravely----
"About twelve pounds a year."
"Hang twelve pounds a year!" I shrieked. Then something odd seemed to
happen in my inner workings. My blood gave a jump and flew up to my
head, where I could hear it singing--a wild, excited song. Perhaps it
was the Eau de Cologne, and not being used to it in my bath, which made
me feel like that. "I shan't invest my motor-boat," I said. "I'm going
a cruise in it, and so are you."
"My darling girl, I hope you haven't gone out of your mind from the
blow!" There was alarm and solicitude in Phil's accents. "When you've
slipped on your dressing-gown and come out we'll talk things over."
"Nothing can make me change my mind," I answered. "It's been made up a
whole minute. Everything is clear now. Providence has put a motor-boat
into our hands as a means of seeing life, and to console us for not
being Captain Noble's heiresses, as Mrs. Keithley wrote we were going to
be. I will not fly in Providence's face. I haven't been brought up to
it by you. We are going to have the time of our lives with that
motor-boat."
The door shook with Phil's disapproval. "You do talk like an
American," she flung at me through the panel.
"That's good. I'm glad adoption hasn't ruined me," I retorted. "But
could you--just because you're English--contentedly give up our
beautiful plans, and settle down as if nothing had happened--with your
type-writer?"
"I hope I have the strength of mind to bear it," faltered Phyllis.
"We've only had two days of hoping for better things."
"We've only lived for two days. There's no going back; there can't be.
We've burned our ships behind us, and must take to the motor-boat."
"Dearest, I don't think this is a proper time for joking--and you in
your bath, too," protested Phil, mildly.
"I'm out of it now. But I refuse to be out of everything. Miss Phyllis
Rivers--why, your very name's a prophecy!--I formally invite you to take
a trip with me in my motor-boat. It may cost us half, if not more, of
your part of the legacy; but I will merely borrow from you the