The Motor Maid

								

but I said nothing, because you were a Lower Berth, and older than I am.
I thought maybe you wanted a Turkish Bath. But since you don't--I'll
try and save you from apoplexy, if it isn't too late."
I fumbled with brooches and buttons, with hooks and eyes. It was even
worse than I'd supposed. The creature's conception of a travelling
costume en route for the South of France consisted of a heavy tweed
dress, two gray knitted stay-bodices, one pink Jaeger chemise, and a
couple of red flannel petticoats. My investigations went no further;
but, encouraged in my rescue work by spasmodic gestures on the part of
the patient, and forbearance on the part of the dog, I removed several
superfluous layers of wool. One blanket went to the floor, where it was
accepted in the light of a gift by His Majesty, and the other was
returned to its owner.
"Now are you better, madam?" I asked, panting with long and well-earned
breaths. She reposed on an elbow, gazing up at me as at a surgeon who
has performed a painful but successful operation; and she was an object
pour faire rire, the poor lady!
She wore an old-fashioned false front of hair, "sunning over with curls"
(brown ones, of a brown never seen on land or sea), and a pair of
spectacles, pushed up in an absent-minded moment, were entangled in its
waves. Her face, which was large, with a knot of tiny features in the
middle, shone red with heat and excitement. She would have had the look
of an elderly child, if it hadn't been for her bright, shrewd little
eyes, which twinkled observantly--and might sparkle with temper. Nobody
who was not rich and important would dare to dress as badly as she did.
Altogether she was a figure of fun. Indeed, I couldn't help feeling what
quaint mantelpiece ornaments she and her dog would make. Yet, for some
reason, I didn't feel inclined to laugh, and I eyed her as solemnly as
she eyed me. As for His Majesty, I began to see that I had misunderstood
him. After all, he had never, from the first, regarded me as an eatable.
"Yes, I am better," replied His Majesty's mistress. "People have
always told me it came on treacherously cold at night in France, so I
prepared accordingly. I suppose I ought to thank you. In fact, I do
thank you."
"I acted for myself as much as for you," I confessed. "It was so hot,
and you were suffering out loud."
"I have never travelled at night before," the lady defended herself.
"Indeed, I've made a point of travelling as little as possible, except
by carriage. I don't consider trains a means of conveyance for
gentlefolk. They seem well enough for cattle who may not mind being
herded together."
"Or for dogs," I suggested.
"Nothing is too good for Beau--my only Beau!" (at this I did not
wonder). "But I wouldn't have moved without him. He's as necessary to me
as my conscience. I was afraid the guard was going to make a fuss about
him, which would have been awkward, as I can't speak a word of French,