n in.  I have a very pretty little room—without any carpet, but with seven mirrors, two clocks, and five curtains.  I was rather disappointed after I arrived to find that there are several other Americans here for the same purpose as myself.  At least there are three Americans and two English people; and also a German gentleman.  I am afraid, therefore, our conversation will be rather mixed, but I have not yet time to judge.  I try to talk with Madame de Maisonrouge all I can (she is the lady of the house, and the real family consists only of herself and her two daughters).  They are all most elegant, interesting women, and I am sure we shall become intimate friends.  I will write you more about them in my next.  Tell William Platt I don’t care what he does.

CHAPTER III

FROM MISS VIOLET RAY, IN PARIS, TO MISS AGNES RICH, IN NEW YORK.

September 21st.

We had hardly got here when father received a telegram saying he would have to come right back to New York.  It was for something about his business—I don’t know exactly what; you know I never understand those things, never want to.  We had just got settled at the hotel, in some charming rooms, and mother and I, as you may imagine, were greatly annoyed.  Father is extremely fussy, as you know, and his first idea, as soon as he found he should have to go back, was that we should go back with him.  He declared he would never leave us in Paris alone, and that we must return and come out again.  I don’t know what he thought would happen to us; I suppose he thought we should be too extravagant.  It’s father’s theory that we are always running up bills, whereas a little observation would show him that we wear the same old rags FOR MONTHS.  But father has no observation; he has nothing but theories.  Mother and I, however, have, fortunately, a great deal of prac