"Now there you go--rejecting my simplest suggestion!" cried Bee. "My simplest, my smartest, and my least expensive! This won't cost you a penny, and it will attract attention at once." I closed my eyes for a moment to contemplate just what sort of attention we would attract if the dog and I drove to the Station to meet Aubrey. "Suppose we try it now!" suggested Bee. "Will you have Amos bring out the horses?" Bee is always scrupulously polite about not giving orders to my servants direct, although I have begged her to consider them as her own. I always think that a hostess who neglects to make her guests feel at liberty to give an order either is not accustomed to servants or else stands in too much awe of them. Jack, the bulldog, assisted in our preparations with much getting under our feet and many hearty tail-waggings. Little he knew what was to follow! Bee carefully gave me my position at the right, and took her own. "Now," she said, "there are two equally correct ways of sitting in a victoria, neither of which you are doing." I was quite comfortable, but I immediately sat up. "It depends upon what you have on," Bee proceeded. "If you are tailor-made and it is morning, you sit straight like this. If it is afternoon and you are all of a Parisian fluff, you recline like this and put your feet as far out on the cushion as you can. It shows off your instep." "It comes very near showing off your garter," I said, indignantly. "You needn't expect me to lie down like that and put my feet on the coachman's back. Aubrey would have a fit." "You are positively low," said Bee, straightening herself. I giggled helplessly at her instructions. They were so beyond my power to carry them out properly. "Can't I sit like this? Can't I be comfortable? What's a victoria for, anyhow?" I demanded. "Call the dog!" was Bee's only answer. I called him. He came to the step, his tongue hanging out, his stumpy tail wagging. "What'll you have, girls?" he seemed to say. "Get in here! Come up, Jack!" I coaxed, patting the seat invitingly. Jack put one paw on the step, and wagged his tail harder. Old Amos's shoulders shook. "Don' reckon you all will git dat dorg into de kerredge, Miss Faith," he said. "Look lake he smell a trick."