on a scrap of paper, "We leave for Bayeux at 8.30." I was just about
sick, for I knew he wasn't able to, and then, besides, if we left so
early, I surely shouldn't see Lee again. But I got up and dressed, of
course, and I was beside myself to find some way of sending Lee a scrap
of a good-by before we took a cab for the _gare_. Uncle was in high
spirits over getting out again, and all went well until it came the
minute to get him on to the train. Well, I do believe he was scared
himself. Getting on to a French train is almost like going up a ladder
that slopes the wrong way, I always think, and it took two
commissionaires to hoist Uncle into the coupe. He was awfully worried
over it, I could see, for he talked about what an outrageous idiot Mr.
Chopstone was all the way to Bayeux. We had to get out there, of course,
and I was beside myself to know how to manage. In the end Uncle came
down so suddenly that he nearly crushed me and a meek, good-hearted
little Frenchman who had kindly offered to help assist.
[Illustration: Bayeux]
The _gare_ at Bayeux is quite a walk from the part of the town where
the sights are and there wasn't a cab or a thing on wheels. I didn't
dare look at Uncle, for there is no train back till four in the
afternoon. He seemed a bit staggered at first, and then he said well, it
was level, and we'd go leisurely along and enjoy the fresh, pure, sweet
air of the country. So we walked along, but I could see he wasn't
enjoying it a bit, and it took us a half-hour to get to where we were
going. We went to the cathedral first, and Uncle sat right down and said
he wanted time enough to enjoy the ground-work of the vaulting and that
I could just leave him and go around alone. It was my first chance to
look at anything as slow as I liked, and I really did enjoy myself very
much.
It's a really wonderful old cathedral, and I found a nice old sacristan
behind the altar, and he took me underneath into the crypt, and the
crypt is the original church where Harold took the oath. It was slowly
buried by the dirt of centuries, and when they started to put a furnace
in a few years ago, they found it and dug it out again. It isn't very
large, and the walls are of stone several feet thick, with little bits
of arched windows set up too high to see from.
When I came back we went to see the tapestry in the museum, and it isn't
really tapestry at all: it's a long, long strip of linen about a foot
wide, with scenes embroidered on it in Kensington, and over and over.
It's really very well done, and it isn't a bit badly worn out--only a
few little holes here and there. The scenes are very interesting, and
some of them are awfully funny. The way they hauled the horses over the
sides of the boats when they landed in England, for example. The Saxons
have beards, and the Normans are shaven. I couldn't help thinking how
funny it was that the Normans, who were regarded as barbarians by the
French, were looked upon as tremendously effete by the English. Uncle
took a deal of pleasure studying the whole thing, and we were there till
it was time for lunch. We had a nice lunch at a clean little place, and
then came the rub. There was nothing to do till train-time, and that
terrible walk to the _gare_. I had brought a book along, so I could
read aloud, but Uncle said only a woman would come to Bayeux and read a
novel, and that I reminded him of Aunt Jane. You know how terrible it is
when any one reminds him of Aunt Jane; so I closed the book at once, and
said I'd do anything he liked. He said that that was more like Aunt Jane
than ever, to just sit back and throw the whole burden on to him; and
then he shook his watch and held it to his ear and said "Hum!" too, one
right after the other. I was almost beside myself to know what to do or
what to suggest, and just then something came puffing up behind us and
stopped right at our side. It was a big automobile, with three men in
it, and one jerked off his mask and jumped out over the wheel and
grabbed Uncle by the hand. And it was Lee!
[Illustration: "And it was Lee."]
You never saw anything like Uncle's face! He seemed reparalyzed for a
few seconds, and Lee kept shaking his hand and telling him how glad he
was to see him, and how he _must_ get right into the automobile and go
on with them to Caen. My heart just about stopped beating, I was so
anxious, but Lee never stopped shaking, and the other men took off their
masks and got out, too, and told Uncle he really must do them the honor
and give them the pleasure, and in the end we got him in, and Lee won
out.
Oh, it was such fun! We had the most glorious trip back to Caen. They
had an extra mask along, and Uncle wore it and sat on the front seat,
and Mr. Peters, the man who owns the automobile, was really lovely to
him. The other man and Lee and I sat behind, and the other man is Mr.
Peters's mother's son by her second husband. His name is Archie Stowell,
and I should judge that Mr. Peters's mother's second husband was a lot
livelier than the first, but not so clever. Mr. Peters is really awfully
clever, and the way he talked to Uncle was wonderful. Uncle said it was
a very smooth-riding automobile, and Mr. Peters said it did him good all
through to meet some one who recognized the good points of a good
machine at once; he said not one man in a thousand had brains enough to
know a good machine when he was in it, and that he was overjoyed to
have accidentally met the one man who did discriminate. And Uncle said
he should judge that automobiling was a very easy way of getting over
the ground when one was traveling in Europe, and Mr. Peters said it was
perfectly bewildering how the breadth and scope of Uncle's mind could
instantaneously seize and weigh every side of an intricate proposition
and as instantaneously solve it completely. By the time we reached Caen
Uncle was so saturated with Mr. Peters that he even smiled on Lee as we
got out and asked them all three to dine with us at eight. They
accepted, and went to their hotel to dress, and Uncle went to his room
without one word of any kind to me.
They came, and we had a very nice dinner in a little separate room, and
the way Mr. Peters talked to Uncle was worth listening to surely. And
when Uncle was talking, he leaned forward and paid attention as if his
life depended on every word. By ten o'clock Uncle was happier than I
have almost ever seen him, and Mr. Peters said it was no use, we just
simply must join their party and go on in the automobile. Lee began to
laugh when he said that, and said: "Now, Peters, you'll learn the
sensation of getting turned down cold." It was an awful second for me,
because I just felt Uncle's terrible battle between not wanting to go on
with Lee and wanting to contradict him; but in the end the wanting to
contradict overpowered everything else, and he said: "Young man, when
you are as old as I am you'll be less ready to speak for other people
than you seem disposed to do now."
[Illustration: "We passed Elfrida and her sister to-day, pedaling along
for dear life"]
And then he accepted Mr. Peters's invitation! So will you only please to
think of it--we are touring with Lee, and to-day we came up through the
lovely valley of the Vire to this little town of the same name. It is
all too nice for words; Uncle sits on the front seat all the time, and
when he gives Mr. Peters advice, Mr. Peters always thanks him and says
that he never met any one before with sense enough to have figured that
out.
We passed Elfrida and her sister to-day, pedaling along for dear life.
They didn't know us, and they are getting to look so awful that I
thought it was just as well. Uncle says he thinks they are seeing Europe
for thirty cents a day now.
It is raining, and I must go to bed.
Your very happy,
YVONNE.
XI
YVONNE TO HER MOTHER
_Vire._
Dearest Mama: We are still here in Vire, and we cannot go on for it is
raining awfully. It rained all yesterday, and we had _more_ fun. About
ten in the morning an automobile arrived with a lady Lee knows named
Mrs. Brewer and three men, and about twelve another automobile arrived
with Clara and Emily Kingsley and their aunt Clara Emily and Ellsworth
Grimm and Jim Freeman and a chauffeur, and about half-past one a
runabout automobile came in with the two Tripps. We are like a big
house-party, and Mr. Peters plays poker with Uncle every minute, so we
can all have no end of a good time.
I must explain to you about Mr. Peters, because Lee explained to me. I
was so troubled over Mr. Peters being so devoted to Uncle and never
winning a single jack-pot once himself that Lee told me all about how it
is. It seems that Mr. Peters's mother was married to Mr. Peters's father
for quite a while before he died and that Mr. Peters's father wasn't
very well off and was very hard to live pleasantly with on account of
Mr. Stowell's father, who lived next door and was very well off and very
easy for Mr. Peters's mother to get along with always; Mr. Peters's
father died when Mr. Peters was about twelve years old, and just as soon
as it was perfectly ladylike, Mr. Peters's mother married Mr. Stowell's
father and went next door to live and had Mr. Stowell. Lee says Mr.
Stowell's father never liked Mr. Peters much because he reminded him of
all those years that Mr. Peters's and Mr. Stowell's mother lived next
door instead of living with him; but Lee says Mr. Peters is very clever,
and he saw how much his father lost from not being easy to get along
with, and so he made up his mind to be easy to get along with himself.
He gets along so well with Mr. Stowell that they travel together all the
time, and Lee says he told him that if he could get along well with
Uncle he'd make it well worth his while; so he's getting along
beautifully with Uncle, and Lee is making it ever so well worth his
while.
Clara Kingsley has fallen in love with one of the men who came with Mrs.
Brewer--the tall, dark one, who does not talk much and reads German in
his room most of his time. There are so many that I get names mixed, but
Emily Kingsley is the same as ever, and _such_ a joy to meet again. She
says she doesn't fall in love the way Clara does; she only gets badly
spattered. The two Tripps are both devoted to Emily, and I think they
are all sort of keeping along together. Miss Clara Emily asked after
every one in our family, even Aunt Jane. Of course I told her that Aunt
Jane had been dead two years, and you ought to have seen her jump and
look at Uncle. She asked me if Uncle lived alone in the house, and she
looked so reflective that I felt quite uncomfortable. I told Lee about
it, but he says Uncle must take his chances the same as the rest of the
world when it comes to Miss Clara Emily. I wish Lee wouldn't make light
of anything so serious as the way Miss Clara Emily looked reflective.
You know you wouldn't like her having all Aunt Jane's lace, and I'm sure
that after Uncle was completely married to her, he wouldn't like it at
all, either. I don't know what Mrs. Brewer is, but the men that came in
the automobile with her are just devoted to her, and she makes every one
have a good time. We played cards and Consequences all the afternoon,
and Mrs. Brewer told our fortunes from tea-leaves in the evening. She
told Uncle to beware of a long, pointed nose which she saw in his cup,
and Miss Clara Emily didn't know whether to be mad or glad. She saw a
wedding-ring in Lee's cup, and I blushed terribly and tried to cough,
and sneezed instead; and Lee said it was an automobile tire, and meant a
breakdown. I do think Lee is always so nice. But about eleven we all got
a terrible shock, for the handsome man that Clara has fallen in love
with suddenly came to the door with his German book in his hand and said
to Mrs. Brewer, "Come to bed, Bert. I'm sleepy as the devil."
You never saw anything like poor Clara! I thought that she would faint,
for you know when Clara falls in love how it goes all through her. She
went upstairs a little later, and, as luck would have it, she had the
next room to the Brewers, and she says it just about killed her to hear
him brushing his teeth, and I promised her I'd never tell, but she says
he called her and Emily the "Yellow Kids" and laughed and laughed and
laughed. I do think it was very horrid of him, for they can't help
having Mr. Kingsley's ears, and I comforted Clara all I could, and told
her that the way she puffs her hair is ever so becoming. It isn't a bit,
but I had to be as nice as I knew how, for she was crying so that I was
afraid Mr. Brewer would call her _Cyrano de Bergerac_, if she didn't
stop.
I had the room between Uncle and the two Tripps, and the two Tripps
calculated their money for three solid hours, I do believe, trying to
see whether they'd have to draw on Paris behind them or could wait for
London ahead. The big Tripp said Mr. Peters had a hard row to hoe and
the little Tripp said Lee had a soft snap, and then they added and
subtracted and divided for another hour. I was almost insane when
finally the little Tripp said: "Tell me what fifteen times nine is, and
then I'll go to sleep," and someone across the hall hollered: "In
Heaven's name tell him what fifteen times nine is, and then we'll _all_
go to sleep." There was deadly stillness after that.
(NEXT DAY)
_Vire._
Dearest Mama:
You see, we are still here and it is still raining. Every one
telegraphed for mail yesterday and every one got it to-day. I had your
letters and one from Edna and one from Mrs. Clary. They are going on a
coaching trip with the man who wasn't a duke, and Edna has bought three
new hats. Mrs. Clary says I am an angel and that she and Edna think it
right out of Heaven the way Lee has turned up. I had three letters from
Mr. Edgar, and he says he is thinking of making a trip into Brittany
and joining us. I told Lee, and Lee says he isn't thinking anything of
the kind, not in his life. I don't really think that Mr. Edgar and Lee
would get on very well together. I feel almost sure that they wouldn't
like each other. Indeed, I feel quite sure.
Poor Clara came to my room while I was reading letters, and she says she
is blighted by Mr. Brewer and knows she can never get over it. She says
she wouldn't have him know that she has the next room and can hear every
word for anything, for she says it's perfectly awful all she's
overhearing. She says he called Mrs. Brewer "Ladybug," and it sounded so
sweet that she cried for fifteen minutes with the pillow around her
head to keep them from hearing her. I'm awfully sorry about Clara,
because she is always so sincere. Don't you remember that time that she
was so sincere that they were afraid that she would commit suicide over
Cleever Wiggins--and that awfully sincere time she had with young Prof.
Cook? She says she could stand anything if she could feel that she was
reciprocated; but she says she can't feel that Mr. Brewer reciprocates
one bit, for he told his wife that he bet Clara would be an older maid
than her aunt before she got through with life, and Clara says that's no
compliment, however you work it.
When we went down-stairs, Mr. Peters and Uncle were playing poker and
Miss Clara Emily was sitting by them looking rapt. Heavens! I do hope
it will stop raining and let us get away soon, for Uncle told me this
noon that she was more unlike Aunt Jane than any woman that he had seen
in years. Lee says he hopes we can get away very soon, too; he does not
like Ellsworth Grimm. It is a pity, because Ellsworth has grown so nice,
and with his pointed beard he is really very handsome. He has done a
beautiful sketch of me that every one but Lee thinks is splendid, and
I'm going to send it to you when it is finished. Uncle is very
good-tempered, and has won over a hundred and fifty francs from Mr.
Peters at poker. Mr. Peters says he's played poker for years without
meeting such a rattling winner as Uncle, and Uncle believes him. The
two Tripps want to go on, too, because they decided to wait for their
money at London, and they are afraid they are going to run short. Mr.
Brewer wants to go, too, because he has finished his German book. I
think we all want to go, because two days is a long while to spend in
Vire. Clara says if they cannot go on in the automobile, she must take a
train, for she is getting more and more sincere the more she is hearing
Mr. Brewer talking to his wife through the wall. Clara says he said that
he was going to snip her nose off when they were dressing this morning,
and she says he calls her "Puss" till Clara feels as if she should
expire in agony. She doesn't get any sympathy from Emily, because Emily
has another room, and Emily isn't sincere, anyhow. Emily has thrown
over the two Tripps and taken Mr. Stowell, and thrown over Mr. Stowell
and gone back to the big Tripp, all in just these two days. Emily asked
me if I ever saw such a fool as Clara; she says it almost kills her to
have such a sister and such an aunt. She asked me if I'd noticed her
aunt looking at my Uncle, and I had to say yes. Then she said she did
hope that it would stop raining pretty soon, for she wants to get to
Granville and meet a man and get letters from three more.
[Illustration: "Miss Clara Emily is getting very much in earnest"]
Uncle came into my room this afternoon noon and said the more he saw of
Europe the better he liked it, and that Mr. Peters was the sort of
friend that was worth making. He said he had decided to go on with
them to Mont St. Michel, because they were so urgent that he couldn't
well get out of it. He says he hopes I won't consider that he has
changed his opinion of Lee because he hasn't, but that he will say this
much, and that is, that the fact that a man like Mr. Peters will call
Lee his friend proves that he must have some good in him somewhere.
Uncle said the Kingsleys seem to be nice girls, and then he coughed, but
I didn't say anything, so he dropped the subject. I must tell you,
though, that Miss Clara Emily is getting very much in earnest, and every
one is noticing it, and Uncle seems pleased.
We all played cards to-day and wrote letters and Lee told Ellsworth
Grimm he was a blank idiot under his breath. I don't know what was the
trouble, and Lee says it isn't any of my business, but I think we are
all getting cross from being shut up so much in this little country
hotel. Elfrida and her sister arrived about noon, but there wasn't any
spare room under two francs, and so they went to the other hotel.
Ellsworth Grimm has gone to the other hotel, too. He says it rains in
his ceiling and he's afraid he'll get pneumonia.
It's getting awful about poor Clara and Mr. Brewer, for he said
something about her to-day that almost killed her, and that is so bad
that she won't repeat it to me. She says Mrs. Brewer just shrieked with
laughter over it, and told him he was the dearest, horridest thing
alive. Clara says I cannot possibly guess the torture of being sincere
over a married man who howls with laughter over you in the next room.
She says she can't help hearing, and she's taken an awful cold standing
with her ear to the wall, too. Poor Clara!
Emily and the big Tripp went out and walked in the rain most all the
afternoon, and I thought she must be very fond of him to be willing to
get so wet; but she says all she's done here she's done to make Jim
Freeman jealous. I was so surprised when she told me that, for Jim has
spent the entire two days with the chauffeur under the automobile. They
have only come out to eat and sleep, and if he is in love with Emily,
he is certainly taking it easy.
_Vire_ (_12 M. next day_).
Oh, Mama, we are so tired of this place! Clara has cried herself sick,
and her aunt sent for the doctor. Mr. and Mrs. Brewer heard through the
wall when he came, and heard that it was Clara, and of course they knew
that Clara must have heard them just as well as they could hear the
doctor, and they nearly went crazy. Mrs. Brewer came to me in a sort of
mad despair and said Mr. Brewer was almost wild. She says she has
mimicked Clara and Emily and their aunt over and over, and she never
dreamed that the wall was so thin. She says Mr. Brewer talks all the
time he dresses and undresses and says anything that comes into his
head. They felt perfectly unable to face Clara again, and it was raining
so hard that they couldn't go on, so they moved over to the other hotel.
_Vire_ (_2 P.M. same day_).
It's very funny, but it seems that the little Tripp was dreadfully taken
with Mrs. Brewer, so the two Tripps have moved over to the other hotel,
too. Mr. Stowell and Emily want to go, too, but they are with parties,
and cannot do as they please. The big Tripp came back for his soap, and
said he had a fireplace and now Uncle wants to move, too.
_Vire_ (_4 P.M. same day_).
We did move, and Lee said if we went, he was going. So he and Mr. Peters
and Mr. Stowell have come over. So we are all here except the Kingsleys
and Jim Freeman. I had to go back for Uncle's soap, and the little Tripp
left his pajamas, so we went back together to get both, and poor Clara
is delirious, screaming, "Yellow kids, yellow kids!" every minute. Every
one thinks she is thinking of shopping in Paris, and I didn't explain;
but while we were there, Mr. Brewer came back for their soap and heard
Clara, and, as a result, he and his wife went on in their automobile,
rain or no rain. They left one of their men named Scott McCarthy, and
took Ellsworth Grimm. Ellsworth wanted to go, and Scott wanted to stay,
so it happened very nicely.
_Vire_ (6 P.M. _same day_).
They have just moved Clara over here. She had a fresh fit when she heard
Mr. Brewer getting the soap, and Miss Clara Emily thought that a change
of scene would benefit her; so they all moved over. Emily told me (I
walked over with Emily when she went back to get their soap) that it
really wasn't Clara at all: it was that her aunt wanted to keep close to
my Uncle. Isn't it awful? And Uncle is so flattered, too! I do hope that
it will stop raining to-morrow. Lee doesn't like Scott McCarthy, and it
is a pity, for he seems to be such a nice man. It's terribly dull
without Mrs. Brewer, she was so lively. Mr. Peters is beginning to look
real pale, and Lee says he ought to have a monument to patience erected
to him. Jim Freeman is worried over the automobiles; he's afraid
something will happen to them on account of our all changing hotels.
Wouldn't that be terrible?
Lovingly,
YVONNE.
_Vire_ (_8 A.M. next day_).
P. S. Just a line to say that the sun has come out, and that we are
all going on by train, except Jim Freeman and the chauffeur. Some one
slashed all the automobile tires last night. Isn't that awful?
XII
UNCLE JOHN AND MONT-SAINT-MICHEL
"Well, this is a great change from the automobile--eh, Peters? Of all
the outrageous, heathenish actions, that cutting of automobile tires was
the worst. Every man at that hotel ought to be hung up and high-strung
and quartered--make an example of the whole outfit. I must say, though,
that I blame Freeman a good deal myself. He says he felt anxious, and
yet he never had that chauffeur set up to watch. Foolish, very foolish;
but he'll pay the penalty, having to stay there and wait for the tires
from Caen.
"Lee, if you could withdraw yourself somewhat from the window, perhaps I
could form some faint conception of what the country looks like to the
north. If you and Yvonne want to compare maps, I should suggest that you
sit side by side instead of holding the map so that it completely covers
my horizon.
"Well, Peters, and so here we are off for Dol. Dol seems to be the only
way to get in or out of Brittany and it must have been so always, for in
Matilda's tapestry she's got William and Harold on their way to Dol as a
beginning to making things hot for the Lord of Brittany. Very
interesting study, that tapestry, Peters. I wouldn't have--
"Stowell, I beg your pardon, but those are my feet, and not valises,
that you are going to sleep against. I didn't say anything as long as
you took them as they lay, but now that you want my left foot slanting
to the right, I must protest. Suppose you end yourself the other way for
a change, anyhow.
"Well, Peters, and so we are off for Mont-Saint-Michel, bless her old
heart--or is Michel a him? I must say, I'm deeply interested in to-day's
expedition. Wasn't some English Henry shut up on Mont-Saint-Michel and
fed by ravens there, or something like that? Yes; I know there's some
such legend, and now we're going to see the spot. How do we get from
Dol to the mont? By Pontorson, eh? And then diligence the rest. Well, I
must say it sounds like quite an undertaking; but then, if you leave the
beaten path, you must always pay the price, and I must say I enjoy these
little jaunts with a congenial party. Too bad the Kingsleys couldn't
have continued with us. Nice people, the Kingsleys--very interesting
girls. What did you say? Oh, yes, of course the aunt was interesting,
too; but--what did you say? Nonsense, nonsense! But I will say one
thing, Peters, and that is that it pays to travel around when it brings
one in contact with people such as yourself and Miss Kingsley.