“Same thing to me. Uncle objects, eh?” “I suppose Miss Toye will accept a week’s notice?” “Of course she will,” declared Masham. “We will have a day or two at Brookwood, to see how the car travels, and then cross the Channel. Have a drink?” “Thank you, a small whisky and large soda.” Mr. Masham ordered for himself a large whisky and a very small soda; indeed, the soda water in his glass was a negligible quantity. “I don’t drink much--but I take it strong,” he remarked as he gulped it down, “and I never smoke--bad for the nerves;” and then he began to discourse of motors and the class and style he believed in. He believed in single-cylinder machines, a short wheel base, wide handle-bars, and a large petrol tank. He did not believe in the aeroplane craze, and, indeed, became both hot and excited when Wynyard introduced the subject. “Madness! Wild goose business! Can come to nothing--look at the accidents! Stick to Mother Earth, _I_ say! I’m an earth man--a motor man. The sea for fish, the sky for birds, earth for humans. I bar both air and sea.” After a few minor arrangements, Wynyard took leave of Mr. Masham, went in search of his friend, and informed him that all was fixed up; he had accepted the post of companion-chauffeur to the celebrated Harry Masham, and was about to tender his resignation to the equally celebrated Tottie Toye. * * * * * During Lady Kesters’ stay in the United States, she had kept up a brisk correspondence with her brother, and written long and enthusiastic descriptions of her impressions of New York, Washington, and Boston; for his part, he had sent her somewhat scanty news. The following, is one of his longest letters:--