admire Miss Smith. I knew
that the lady they admired was arch, and had a persuasive giggle.
Nevertheless I tried to break a lance for my countrywoman.

"You will see," I assured them, "she will remove the torn blouse and
the muddy boots; and when she comes down her face will be quite pale."

"But she often looks like that," said one of the men. "At least once a
day she plays a game or takes a walk that is more of a strain on her
appearance than it should be. A young woman must always consider what
effect things have on her appearance."

"Why?"

"Why?--Because she is a woman. There is no sense in a question like
that. It goes back to the beginning of all things. It is unanswerable.
Every young woman wishes to please."

"But is it not conceivable," I asked, "that a young woman may
sometimes wish to please herself even at the expense of her
appearance. Miss Smith assures me that she enjoys long walks and
games,--oh, games that you have not seen her play here--hockey, for
instance, and cricket."

"_Verrueckt!_" said the men in chorus. "A young woman should not think
of herself at all. The Almighty has created her to please us, and it
does not please us when she wears muddy boots and is as red as a
poppy; at least, not while she is young. When she is married, and her
place is in the kitchen, she may be as red as she pleases. That is a
different matter."

"Is it?" I said, and I wanted to ask why again; but I held my tongue.
Some questions, as they said, lead one too far afield.

The majority of visitors at a German watering-place take very little
exercise of any kind. They sit about the forest as our seaside
visitors sit about the sands, and though they cannot fill in their
mornings by sea bathing, there are often medicinal baths that take as
much time. Then the _Badearzt_ probably prescribes so many glasses of
water from his favourite spring each day, and a short walk after each
glass, and a long rest after the midday dinner. Dinner is the really
serious business of the day, and often occupies two hours. Where there
is still a _table d'hote_ it is a tedious, noisy affair, conducted in
a stuffy room, and even if you are greedy enough to like the good
things brought round you wish very soon that you were on a Cumberland
fell-side with a mutton sandwich and a mountain stream. You wish it
even although you hate mutton sandwiches and like meringues filled
with Alpine strawberries and whipped cream; for the clatter and t