“The bare idea,” he said, “is bad for my heart. What were we saying? Oh, I know. I was indicating the convenience of our future conjunction.” “Perhaps you’re right,” said Cicely slowly. “Let’s get up early and go up into the mountains.” “What exactly,” said Rage, “do you mean by ‘early’? By the time I’m able to differentiate between the bell and light switches which dangle over my bed, and so obtain breakfast, it’s usually about eight.” “Let’s leave at five, Toby.” “Five!” screamed Toby. “Why, that’s B.C.—Before Cock-crow. You oughtn’t to talk about such hours.” “All right,” said Cicely. “I’ll get someone else to take me. I wonder if Teddy Bligh would.” “Firkin’s the man,” said Rage. “He’s mug enough for anything. You ask Firkin.” A dreamy look stole into Cicely’s eyes. “The trouble is,” she said, “that either of them’ll make love.” “Well, it would be asking for trouble, wouldn’t it, Cicely dear? Up at dawn, and then hey! for the mountains in the half-light and a two-seater. What?” “Don’t you think,” said Miss Voile, “that, as I want to so much, it’d be a friendly act if you were to step into the breach?” “I think it’d be more than friendly,” said Rage. “Almost—almost familiar.” “Once you’re up,” said Cicely, “you feel most awfully fit.” “So I’ve heard,” said Toby. “It’s a compelling phrase that, isn’t it? ‘Once you’re up.’” Miss Voile began to laugh. “I give in,” she said. “Fix your own time, Toby, and I’ll be there.” Captain Rage pulled his moustache. “My dear good child,” he said, “I don’t want to spoil your day. If it’ll really amuse you to leave at five——” “Oh, I should love it, Toby. I’ve always wanted to drive up into the dawn. You see, with summer time it’ll be four really.” “Yes, I—I’d thought of that,” said Toby. “And we’ll have the roads to ourselves, and you can let her out and—and—oh, it’ll be glorious.” “So be it,” said Toby Rage. “Five B.C. to-morrow as ever is.” “Oh, you darling!” cried Cicely. “And listen,” continued Toby. “Quarter ’f an hour I’ll give you for the sake of your pretty face. But at five-fifteen sharp I shall return to bed.” Cicely blew him a kiss. “Ugh,” said Toby. * * * * * The blue landaulette rolled over the saddle of Sévignac and began to descend slowly into the valley of Laruns. “Pull the check-string,” said Mrs. Medallion. “I wish to admire the view.” Her companion put out her head and called on the driver to stop. As she resumed her seat— “I wish,” said Mrs. Medallion, “you’d do as you’re told. I ordered a cord on his arm, and there it is. Why avoid a convenience?” “To tell you the truth,” said Miss Woolly, “I was afraid he mightn’t understand.” “In that case,” said Mrs. Medallion, “we could have enlightened him.” Head in air, she turned to survey the prospect. “Isn’t it enchanting?” said Miss Woolly, gazing over her shoulder.