Something pleasantly interesting happened today. Early this morning
Loomis in the bed next to mine asked me if I would join him in a party
with some friends of his. They were to come out to the school for us, so
I borrowed a blue French uniform and stuff and dolled out as fine as you
please. The friends came at ten-thirty in a touring car. The party
consisted of M. and Mme. Romaine, who were our host and hostess, and
Mlle. Gene Recault, and her future father-in-law. She was very pretty,
charming, and entirely French. Her father-in-law, M. Vibert, was as
jolly as a youth of twenty-five. They were all so cordial and generous,
and entirely agreeable. We went to Tours and called at a music store,
where Mlle. Gene purchased some music. Then we went to the hotel at
which we had spent the night, and she gave us the treat of a wonderful
voice. It was too strong for the small salon, but when she lowered, it
was delightful. She was the leading pupil in the National School of
Music at Paris, and withal, modest and charming. We proceeded to a café
in the Rue National where we had a good breakfast at twelve-thirty. The
meal was lively, and we were able to take an interesting part in the
conversation, thanks to the sympathetic courtesy of our companions. M.
Vibert was full of pranks and humor, so at the end of the meal I started
to use a nutcracker on a peach, and Mlle. Gene took it from me in
consternation and showed me how the French peeled a peach and cracked
nuts; so I cracked the peach nut and ate the kernel and showed them the
American method of cracking nuts under the heel. They were extremely
considerate of my ignorance. After dinner we got into the machine and
rode to a wine shop where we had some tea. It always takes half the meal
for me to make new acquaintances understand that I do not drink wine or
coffee. The family asked me to come out and stay with them during our
_permission_. We returned to the school about three-thirty. It was a
mighty pleasant Sunday.
All the mail is being held somewhere—and we want letters. I get about
two letters a week from _marraine_, which fills the gap between those
from home.
With love,