oppa decided that we had better go to Versailles by Cook's
four-in-hand. There were other ways of going, but he thought we might as
well take the most distinguished. He was careful to explain that the
mere grandeur of this method of transportation had no weight with him;
he was compelled to submit to the ostentation of it for another purpose
which he had in view.

"I am not a person," said poppa, "nor is any member of my family, to
thrust myself into aristocratic circles in foreign lands; but when an
opportunity like this occurs for observing them without prejudice, so to
speak, I believe in taking it."

We went to the starting place early, so as to get good seats, for, as
momma said, the whole of the Parisian _elite_ with the President thrown
in wouldn't induce her to ride with her back to the horses. In that
position she would be incapable of observation.

The coaches were not there when we arrived, and presently the Senator
discovered why. He told us with a slightly depressed air that they had
gone round to the hotels. "Daughter," he said to me, "J.P. Wicks does
hate to make a fool of himself, and this morning he's done it twice
over. The best seats will go to the people who had the sense to stay at
their hotels, and the fact that the coaches go round shows that they run
for tourist traffic only. There won't be a Paris aristocrat among them,"
continued poppa gloomily, "nary an aristocrat."

When they came up we saw that there wasn't. The coaches were full of
tourist traffic. It was mounted on the box seats very high up, where it
looked conspicuously happy, and sounded a little hysterical; and it was
packed, tight and warm and anticipant into every available seat. From
its point of vantage, secured by waiting at the hotel for it, the
tourist traffic looked down upon the Wick family on the pavement, in
irritating compassion. As momma said, if we hadn't taken our tickets it
was enough to have sent us to the Bon Marche.

A man in a black frock coat and white shirt cuffs came bareheaded from
the office and pointed us out to the interpreter, who wore brass
buttons. The interpreter appeared to mention it to the guide, who wiped
his perspiring brows under a soft brown felt hat. A fiacre crawled round
the corner and paused to look on, and the Senator said, "Now which of
you three gentlemen is responsible for my ride to Versailles?"

The interpreter looked at him with a hostile expression, the guide made
a gesture of des