The Princess Passes

								

Suddenly the flame of my desire for the walking solo with a mule
accompaniment (somewhat diminished lately, I confess) leaped up anew.
There were things in that window which made a man long to be a
hermit.
"Mrs. Winston." I cried (Molly was driving), "for goodness' sake stop."
In an instant the car slowed down. "What is the matter?" she implored.
"Are you ill? Have we run over anything?"
"No, but look there," I said eagerly. "What an outfit for a camping
tour! My mouth waters only at sight of it."
"Greedy fellow," commented Jack from the tonneau. "Drive on, Molly.
Get him past the shop. He doesn't really want any of those things, and
wouldn't use them if he had them. The sooner he forgets the better."
"Never shall I forget that Instantaneous Breakfast for an Alpiniste,"
I fiercely protested, "and I will have it at any cost. I know there's
no other shop on the Continent like this, and I shall buy an outfit
for myself and mule, here, if I have to come back from Lucerne by
train for it."
"Hang your mule!" exclaimed Jack. "I was hoping you'd forgotten all
about him by this time, and had made up your mind to go on with us
indefinitely."
I saw reproach blaze through the talc triangle in Molly's mushroom.
(Yet I thought she liked me, and had not, thus far, found "three a
crowd.")
"Lord Lane isn't a chameleon, Jack," said she, "that he should
change his mind every few minutes. Of course he's going to have his
mule trip. And as for this shop, all those dear little pots and
kettles and things in the window are too cute for words. He shall
have them."
Was I to be a bone of contention between husband and wife?
"Please, both of you come in and help me choose," I meekly pleaded, in
haste to restore the peace which I had broken.
We got out, and a small crowd collected round the car, Gotteland
standing by with his chin raised and the exact expression of the frog
footman in "Alice in Wonderland." One would have said that he saw,
afar off, the graves of his ancestors, on the summit of some lonely
mountain.
It was what Molly would have called a "lovely" shop, and it did
business under the strange device: "Magasin Suisse d'Equipment
Sportif." The name alone was worth the money one would spend.
Everything to cover the outer, and nourish the inner sportsman, was to
be had. I felt that I could scarcely be lonely or sad if I possessed a
stock of these friendly articles. Jack's ribald advice to buy a
pelerine, and a green-loden Gemsjäger hat with a feather, stirred me
neither to smiles nor anger, for Molly and I were already deep in
exploration.
The first thing I bought was a mule-pack. Being a merciful man, I
chose one of medium size, for already I could fancy myself becoming
fond of the animal which was to be my companion in many wild and
solitary places, and I did not wish to overburden him. I then, aided
and abetted by Molly, began to choose the pack's contents.