"Of _course_ we want you to!" she broke in. "We all think it's just awfully good of you to bother with us when you must have so many friends who want you to take them--English people in your own set. By the way, do you know the Duchess of Carborough?" "I know very few duchesses or other Americans," I replied. Whereupon Miss Kidder's imp laughed, though her mother remained grave, and even looked mildly disappointed. "That's a funny way of putting it," said Beechy. "One would think it was quite an American habit, being a Duchess." "So it is, isn't it?" I asked. "The only reason we needn't fear its growing like the Yellow Peril is because there aren't enough dukes. I've always thought the American nation the most favoured in the world. Aren't all your girls brought up to expect to be duchesses, and your men presidents?" "_I_ wasn't," snapped Beechy. "If there was a duke anywhere around, Mamma would take him, if she had to snatch him out of my mouth. What are English girls brought up to expect?" "Hope for, not expect," I corrected her. "Any leavings there are in the way of marquesses or earls; or if none, a mere bishop or a C. B." "What's a C. B.?" asked Mrs. Kidder anxiously. "A Companion of the Bath." "My goodness! Whose bath?" "The Bath of Royalty. We say it with a capital B." "My! How awkward for your King. And what was done about it when you had only a Queen on the throne?" "You must inquire of the chamberlains," I replied. "But about that trip of ours. The--er--my car is in a garage not far away, and it can be ready when--" "Oh, I hope it's a _red_ car, with your coat of arms on it. I do so admire red for an automobile. We could all fix ourselves up in red cloaks and hats to match, and make ourselves look awfully swell--" "Everybody'd call us 'The Crimson Ramblers,' or 'The Scarlet Runners,' or something else horrid," tittered that precocious child Beechy. "It isn't red, it's grey," Terry managed hastily to interpolate; which settled one burning question, the first which had been settled or seemed likely to be settled at our present rate of progress. "If you are keen on starting--" I essayed again, hope triumphing over experience. "Yes, I'm just looking forward to that start," Mrs. Kidder caught me up. "We _shall_ make a sensation. We're neighbours of yours, you know. We're at the Cap Martin Hotel. Isn't it perfectly lovely there, with that big garden, the woods and all? When we were coming to the Riviera, I told the man at Cook's that we wanted to go to the grandest hotel there was, where we could feel we were getting our money's worth; and he said all the kings and princes, and queens and princesses went to the Cap Martin, so--" "We thought it might be good enough for us," capped Beechy. "It's as full of royalties, as--as--" "As a pack of cards," I suggested.