I wanted to hum and haw a bit, but she didn't give me the chance. She pulled open the door behind. 'Get in quick!' she said to the companion. 'Quick, quick! a motor puff-puffing this way always makes me think it's in a desperate hurry and won't wait!' _I_, however, was not in such a hurry this time, though there's nothing I hate more, as a rule, than wasting motor power standing still. 'What are _you_ going to do, Miss Pomeroy?' I shouted above the throbbing and shaking of the machine. 'Going right home to my mother,' she replied. 'It's about time, too.' 'No, you don't,' thought I, 'and leave me saddled with the companion.' For if you _must_ have female society, you may as well have it good-looking when you are about it. 'Won't you do me the pleasure of taking a ride too?' I asked politely. I knew perfectly well she was dying for a ride in the motor, and I had turned a deaf ear to dozens of hints. But now that she wanted to do the other woman a good turn and walk home herself, nothing would content me but to have her in the motor. I know how inconvenient it is to be good-natured and unselfish. I am obliged to be both so often, against my natural inclinations. Miss Virginia's eyes gave a sparkle, but she hesitated a moment. 'The front seat's much the jolliest,' I remarked, 'and it's very good going--no end of a surface.' She gave a jump and was up beside me in half a second, and we were off. By Jove--that was a good bit of going! The road was clear, the surface like velvet. I took every bit out of the motor that was in it, and we went the pace and no mistake. Miss Virginia was as pleased as Punch, I could see. She had to hold on her hat with both hands, and her cheeks and lips were as red as roses; the ribbons flew out from her neck, and flapped across my face, which was a nuisance, of course; they had the faint scent of some flower or other; I hate smells, as a rule, but this was not strong enough to be bad. We got down at the Unicorn, and though I said I knew nothing whatever about ponies, I had to look through the stables with the hostler, and choose a beast and a trap for Mrs. MacGill. There was only one of each, so the choice was not difficult. The two girls drove home in the turnout. I thought it was time to disappear. CECILIA EVESHAM GREY TOR INN, _Thursday_ I have had a miserable thirty-six hours. Mrs. MacGill has been ill again--or has believed that she is ill again. I do not think there is much wrong with her, but the over-sympathetic Mrs. Pomeroy went on describing symptoms to her till she became quite nervous and went to bed, demanding that a doctor be sent for. This was no easy matter, but at last a callow medical fledgling was dug out somewhere, who was ready to agree with all I said to him. 'Suggest fresh air and exercise to Mrs. MacGill,' I said, 'for she considers the one poisonous, the other almost a crime, and knitting the only legitimate form of amusement.'