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The Chauffeur and the Chaperon

by C. N. (Charles Norris) Williamson

By C. N. (Charles Norris) Williamson · Literature & Fiction · Public domain

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The Chauffeur and the Chaperon is a public-domain classic of literature and fiction by C. N. (Charles Norris) Williamson.

The complete text is on this page and the chapter pages below — all 107 chapters, about 127,866 words (~11 hours of reading), free to read online with no signup.

The Chauffeur and the Chaperon at a glance

Author
C. N. (Charles Norris) Williamson
Length
127,866 words · about 11 hours to read
Chapters
107
Price
Free — public domain

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Part 1

Produced by Jennifer Sahmoun, Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

THE CHAUFFEUR AND THE CHAPERON

OTHER BOOKS BY C. N. AND A. M. WILLIAMSON

My Friend the Chauffeur, Lady Betty Across the Water, Rosemary in Search of a Father, Princess Virginia, The Car of Destiny, The Princess Passes, The Lightning Conductor

THE CHAUFFEUR AND THE CHAPERON

C. N. and A. M. Williamson

ILLUSTRATIONS BY KARL ANDERSON

NEW YORK

THE McCLURE COMPANY

MCMVIII

Copyright, 1907, 1908, by The McClure Company

Copyright, 1906, by C. N. and A. M. Williamson

MR. G. VAN DER POT

PRESIDENT OF THE ROTTERDAM SAILING AND ROWING CLUB WHOSE KIND AND NEVER-FAILING HELP ADDED TENFOLD TO THE PLEASURES OF OUR VOYAGE THROUGH DELIGHTFUL DUTCH WATERWAYS WE DEDICATE

THE STORY OF THE TOUR

CONTENTS

NELL VAN BUREN'S POINT OF VIEW

CHAPTER PAGE

I. 3

II. 12

III. 23

IV. 36

V. 45

VI. 63

VII. 72

RUDOLPH BREDERODE'S POINT OF VIEW

VIII. 87

IX. 108

Part 2

X. 118

XI. 134

XII. 147

XIII. 160

XIV. 170

XV. 178

XVI. 183

XVII. 190

XVIII. 200

XIX. 208

XX. 222

PHYLLIS RIVERS' POINT OF VIEW

CHAPTER PAGE

XXI. 235

XXII. 243

XXIII. 260

XXIV. 270

XXV. 279

XXVI. 284

RONALD LESTER STARR'S POINT OF VIEW

XXVII. 301

XXVIII. 314

XXIX. 328

XXX. 339

XXXI. 348

XXXII. 353

XXXIII. 365

XXXIV. 369

Part 3

XXXV. 384

XXXVI. 389

XXXVII. 402

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Facing She absentmindedly dropped in three, while Page talking to Starr . . . . 168

We were called upon to part with almost all the gulden. . . . . . 20

"You need have no hesitation in giving the boat to me" . . . . . 24

We both exclaimed, "Oh, are you here?". . 42

There was a sudden stir in the garden . . 96

"It's black magic," said Aunt Fay . . 154

We stopped at Haarlem only long enough to do reverence to Franz Hals . . . 168

A couple of great yellow dogs, drawing a cart, swore canine oaths against the car . 196

Starr induced them to stand for him, though they were reluctant and self-conscious 216

I was glad to stoop down and pat Tibe . . 240

Solemn men inspecting burning globes, and bargaining with their possessors . 254

She looked, for all the world, like a beautiful Frisian girl . . . . . 288

It was Phyllis who shone at Liliendaal . 320

"Well--have I pleased you?" Freule Menela asked at last . . . . . 344

It was a ring for a lover to offer to his lady 352

At his present rate he would reach us in about two minutes . . . . . 388

THE CHAUFFEUR AND THE CHAPERON

NELL VAN BUREN'S POINT OF VIEW

Sometimes I think that having a bath is the nicest part of the day, especially if you take too long over it, when you ought to be hurrying.

Phyllis and I (Phil is my stepsister, though she is the most English creature alive) have no proper bath-room in our flat. What can you expect for forty pounds a year, even at Clapham? But we have a fitted-up arrangement in the box-room, and it has never exploded yet. Phyllis allows herself ten minutes for her bath every morning, just as she allows herself five minutes for her prayers, six to do her hair, and four for everything else, except when she wears laced-up boots; but then, she has principles, and I have none; at least, I have no maxims. And this morning, just because there were lots of things to do, I was luxuriating in the tub, thinking cool, delicious thoughts.

As a general rule, when you paint glorious pictures for yourself of your future as you would like it to be, it clouds your existence with gray afterwards, because the reality is duller by contrast; but it was different this morning. I had stopped awake all night thinking the same things, and I was no more tired of the thoughts now than when I first began.

I lay with my eyes shut, sniffing Eau de Cologne (I'd poured in a bottleful for a kind of libation, because I could afford to be extravagant), and planning what a delightful future we would have.

"I should love to chop up Phil's type-writer and burn the remains," I said to myself; "but she's much more likely to put it away in lavender, or give it to the next-door-girl with the snub nose. Anyhow, I shall never have to write another serial story for Queen-Woman, or The Fireside Lamp, or any of the other horrors. Oh the joy of not being forced to create villains, only to crush them in the end! No more secret doors and coiners' dens, and unnaturally beautiful dressmakers' assistants for me! Instead of doing typing at ninepence a thousand words Phil can embroider things for curates, and instead of peopling the world with prigs and puppets at a guinea a thou', I can--oh, I can do anything. I don't know what I shall want to do most, and that's the best of it--just to know I can do it. We'll have a beautiful house in a nice part of town, a cottage by the river, and, best of all, we can travel--travel--travel."

Then I began to furnish the cottage and the house, and was putting up a purple curtain in a white marble bath-room with steps down to the bath, when a knock came at the door.

Part 4

I knew it was Phil, for it could be nobody else; but it was as unlike Phil as possible--as unlike her as a mountain is unlike itself when it is having an eruption.

"Nell," she called outside the door. "Nell, darling! Are you ready?"

"Only just begun," I answered. "I shall be--oh, minutes and minutes yet. Why?"

"I don't want to worry you," replied Phil's creamy voice, with just a little of the cream skimmed off; "but--do make haste."

"Have you been cooking something nice for breakfast?" (Our usual meal is Quaker oats, with milk; and tea, of course; Phil would think it sacrilegious to begin the day on any other drink.)

"Yes, I have. And it's wasted."

"Have you spilt--or burnt it?"

"No; but there's nothing to rejoice over or celebrate, after all; at least, comparatively nothing."

"Good gracious! What do you mean?" I shrieked, with my card-house beginning to collapse, while the Eau de Cologne lost its savor in my nostrils. "Has a codicil been found to Captain Noble's will, as in the last number of my serial for----"

"No; but the post's come, with a letter from his solicitor. Oh, how stupid we were to believe what Mrs. Keithley wrote--just silly gossip. We ought to have remembered that she couldn't know; and she never got a story straight, anyway. Do hurry and come out."

"I've lost the soap now. Everything invariably goes wrong at once. I can't get hold of it. I shall probably be in this bath all the rest of my life. For goodness' sake, what does the lawyer man say?"

"I can't stand here yelling such things at the top of my lungs."

Then I knew how dreadfully poor Phil was really upset, for her lovely voice was quite snappy; and I've always thought she would not snap on the rack or in boiling oil. As for me, my bath began to feel like that--boiling oil, I mean; and I splashed about anyhow, not caring whether I got my hair wet or not. Because, if we had to go on being poor after our great expectations, nothing could possibly matter, not even looking like a drowned rat.

I hadn't the spirit to coax Phyllis, but I might have known she wouldn't go away, really. When I didn't answer except by splashes which might have been sobs, she went on, her mouth apparently at the crack of the door----

"I suppose we ought to be thankful for such mercies as have been granted; but after what we'd been led to expect----"

"What mercies, as a matter of fact, remain to us?" I asked, trying to restore depressed spirits as well as circulation with a towel as harsh as fate.

"Two hundred pounds and a motor-boat."

"A motor-boat? For goodness' sake!"

"Yes. The pounds are for me, the boat for you. It seems you once unfortunately wrote a postcard, and told poor dear Captain Noble you envied him having it. It's said to be as good as new; so there's one comfort, you can sell it second-hand, and perhaps get as much money as he has left me."

I came very near falling down again in the bath with an awful splash, beneath the crushing weight of disappointment, and the soap slipping under my foot.

"Two hundred pounds and a motor-boat--instead of all those thousands!" I groaned--not very loudly; but Phil heard me through the door.

"Never mind, dearest," she called, striving, in that irritating way saints have, to be cheerful in spite of all. "It's better than nothing. We can invest it."

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