"Allen, Grant - Miss Cayley's Adventures 01 - The Adventure of the Cantankerous Old Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen Grant)

and they think you aren't likely to write and enquire of
their last mistress in Toulouse or St. Petersburg. Then,
again, on the other hand, I can't wait to get a Gretchen, an
unsophisticated little Gretchen of the Taunus at
Schlangenbad--I suppose there are unsophisticated girls in
Germany still--made in Germany--they don't make 'em any
longer in England, I'm sure--like everything else, the trade
in rustic innocence has been driven from the country. I
can't wait to get a Gretchen, as I should like to do, of
course, because I simply daren't undertake to cross the
Channel alone and go all that long journey by Ostend or
Calais, Brussels and Cologne, to Schlangenbad.'

'You could get a temporary maid,' her friend suggested, in
a lull of the tornado.

The Cantankerous Old Lady flared up. 'Yes, and have my
jewel-case stolen! Or find she was an English girl without
one word of German. Or nurse her on the boat when I want to
give my undivided attention to my own misfortunes. No,
Amelia, I call it positively unkind of you to suggest such a
thing. You're so unsympathetic! I put my foot down there.
I will not take any temporary person.'

I saw my chance. This was a delightful idea. Why not
start for Schlangenbad with the Cantankerous Old Lady?

Of course, I had not the slightest intention of taking a
lady's-maids place for a permanency. Nor even, if it comes
to that, as a passing expedient. But if I wanted to go
round the world, how could I do better than set out by Rhine
country? The Rhine leads you on to the Danube, the Danube
to the Black Sea, the Black Sea to Asia; and so, by way of
India, China and Japan, you reach the Pacific and San
Francisco; whence one returns quite easily by New York and
the White Star Liners. I began to feel like a globe-trotter
already; the Cantankerous Old Lady was the thin end of the
wedge--the first rung of the ladder! I proceeded to put my
foot on it.

I leaned around the corner of the tree and spoke.
'Excuse me,' I said, in my suavest voice, 'but I think I see
a way out of your difficulty.'

My first impression was that the Cantankerous Old Lady
would go off in a fit of apoplexy. She grew purple in the
face with indignation and astonishment, that a casual
outsider should venture to address her; so much so, indeed,
that for a second I almost regretted my well-meant
interposition. Then she scanned me up and down, as if I