they arrived in Paris, so Irene had only a confused
impression of an immense railway station, of porters in blue blouses, of
a babel of noise and shouting in a foreign language which seemed quite
different from the French she had learned at school, of clinging very
closely to Father's arm, of a drive through lighted streets, of a hotel
where dinner was served in a salon surrounded by big mirrors, then bed,
which seemed the best thing in the world, for she was almost too weary
to keep her eyes open.

"If every day is going to be like this we shall be tired out by the time
we reach Naples," she thought, as she sank down on her pillow.
"Traveling is the limit."

Eleven hours of sleep, however, made a vast difference in her attitude
towards their long journey. When she came downstairs next morning she
was all eagerness to see Paris.

"We have the whole day here," said Mrs. Beverley, "so we may as well
get as much out of it as we can. Daddy has business appointments to
keep, but you and I and Vin, Renie, will take a taxi and have a look at
some of the sights, won't we?"

"Rather!" agreed the young people, hurrying over their coffee and rolls.

"I wouldn't miss Paris for worlds," added Vincent; "only don't spend the
whole time inside shops, Mater. That's all this fellow bargains for."

"We'll compromise and make it half and half," laughed Mother.

A single day is very brief space in which to see the beauties of Paris,
but the Beverleys managed to fit a great deal into it, and to include
among their activities a peep at the Louvre, a drive in the Bois de
Boulogne, a visit to Napoleon's Tomb, half an hour in a cinema, and a
rush through several of the finest and largest shops.

"It's different from London--quite!" decided Irene, at the end of the
jaunt. "It's lighter and brighter, somehow, and the streets are wider
and have more trees planted in them. It's a terrible scurry, and I
should be run over if I tried to cross the street. The shops aren't any
better than ours really, though they make more fuss about them. The
little children and the small pet dogs are adorable. The cinema was
horribly disappointing, because they were all American films, not French
ones; but that light that falls from the domed roof down on to
Napoleon's tomb was worth coming across the Channel to see. Yes, Mummie
dear, I thoroughly like Paris. I'm only sorry we have to leave it so
soon."

The train for Rome was to start at nine o'clock in the