Alphonse, the quiet, blasé, peerless Alphonse? Could it be he? That Alphonse had gone for an early morning spin lured by the dew on the clover fields, by the sweet chorus of awakening birds, borne by the unsuppressible desire to see the shy, sweet advent of a new day creeping up the flushed and rosy sky, was wholly out of the question. Alphonse’s soul, in the early morning hours, was filled only with the beauty and glory of bed. The general had always been forced to arouse his serving-man and the process had often been painful, calling for sternness and suppressed wrath on the general’s part. Alphonse a thief was more believable than Alphonse getting out of bed uncalled. Billy was the first to speak. "The car," she whispered. "Oh, yes," said the landlady hastily, not quite sure what had happened or was to happen by the expression on the faces before her. "Oh, yes," reassuringly, "he took the car. My husband wasn’t up when he went—" The general rose, his face red with anger. "If he has taken my car," he thundered, "I shall have him prosecuted whether Henrietta likes it or not." "It’s an outrage," sympathized Bartlett. "We can telegraph the police." "Oh," moaned Henrietta, "I did love that car." The landlady sought to reassure them in a calm, placid manner that savored of a big, gentle-eyed cow. "Why, he has only gone for a ride. He went—" The general paused in the doorway. "He went last night, madam," said he coldly, and slightly dramatically, for the general never believed in spoiling a good story by a mild delivery. "And he took not only the car, but all our money." Led by the general and followed by the landlady, they made for the barn. There, in the middle of the floor where last night two cars had stood side by side, a red and a blue, was now only one, a big, blue Packard. A few hens stepped daintily here and there, around and under it, while the cat cleaned her paws contentedly from her seat on the running-board. The general stopped in the doorway and stared. His car? And such a wave of thanksgiving rushed over him that it was not his car that was missing that he felt he owed Alphonse a debt of gratitude and forgave him immediately. "My car," said he, and chuckled with relief. "Where’s mine?" demanded Bartlett, growing red and angry. "Where’s Alphonse?" suggested the Watermelon significantly. Henrietta laughed with positive gratitude to her erstwhile serving-man. "Why," she cried, "he left us ours." "Alphonse was very fond of me," said the general with some little pride, as he patted his car tenderly. "Yes," agreed Bartlett, "I can see that. He demonstrated it fully. I am glad he didn’t love you or he might have killed Billy and me." The landlord, followed by the slatternly maid-servant and the shifty-eyed stable-boy, trailed into the barn. "Man gone off with your car?" asked the landlord. "I locked up last night about twelve. He must have left before then."