e Jimmies on the terrace of Shepheard's in
February.

I packed three trunks in my very best style, only to have Mrs. Jimmie
regard my work with a face so full of disapproval that it reminded me
of Bee's. She then proceeded to put "everything any mortal could
possibly want" into one trunk, with what seemed to me supernatural
skill and common-sense, calmly sending the other two to be stored at
Munroe's. I don't like to disparage Mrs. Jimmie's idea of what I need,
but it does seem to me that nearly everything I have wanted here in
Berlin is "stored at Munroe's."

My companion and I, with faultless arithmetic, calculated our expenses
and drew out what we considered "plenty of French money to get us to
the German frontier." Then Jimmie took my companion and Mrs. Jimmie
took me to the train.

Their cab got to the station first, and when we came up Jimmie was
grinning, and my companion looked rather sheepish.

"I didn't have enough money to pay the extra luggage," she whispered.
"I had to borrow of Mr. Jimmie."

"That's just like you," I said, severely. "Now _I_ drew more than you
did."

Just then Jimmie came up with _my_ little account.

"Forty-nine francs extra luggage," he announced.

"What?" I gasped, "on that _one_ trunk?" How grateful I was at that
moment for the two stored at Munroe's!

"Oh, Jimmie," I cried, "I haven't got _near_ enough! You'll _have_ to
lend me twenty francs!"

My companion smiled in sweet revenge, and has been almost impossible
to travel with since then, but we are one in our rage against paying
extra luggage. Just think of buying your clothes once and then paying
for them over and over again in every foreign country you travel
through! Our clothes will be priceless heirlooms by the time we get
home. We can never throw them away. They will be too valuable.

The Jimmies have been so kind to us that we nearly choked over leaving
them, but we consoled ourselves after the train left, and proceeded to
draw the most invidious comparisons between French sleeping-cars and
the rolling palaces we are accustomed to at home. I am ashamed to
think that I have made unpleasant remarks upon the discomforts of
travel in America. Oh, how ungrateful I have been for past mercies!

My companion is very patient, as a rule, but I heard her restlessly
tossing around in her berth, and I said, "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing much. But don't you think they have arranged the knobs in
these mattresses in very