on the cob and American
griddle cakes--"

"Oh, but the rooms are so small and dark, and we could go there for
luncheon to get those things," said his wife.

"Do let's go to the Hotel Vouillemont," I begged. "We won't see any
Americans there, and it is so lovely and old and French, and so heavenly
quiet."

"But then there is the new Elysee Palace," said Bee. "We haven't seen
that."

"And they say it's finer than the Waldorf," said Mrs. Jimmie.

Jimmie and I looked at each other in comical despair.

"Let 'em have their own way, Jimmie," I whispered in his ear, "while
we're in their country. They know that we are going to make 'em dodge
Switzerland and go up in the Austrian Tyrol and perhaps even get them to
Russia, so we'll be obliged to give them their head part of the way.
Let's be handsome about it."

We went to the Elysee Palace, and we spent two weeks in Paris. Part of
this time we were fashionable with Mrs. Jimmie and Bee, and part of the
time they were Latin Quartery with us. We made them go to the Concert
Rouge and to the Restaurant Foyot, and occasionally even to sit on the
sidewalk at one of the little tables at Scossa's, where you have
_dejeuner au choix_ for one franc fifty, including wine, and which they
couldn't help enjoying in spite of pretending to despise it and us,
while occasionally we went with them to call on the grand and
distinguished personages to whom they had letters. But it remained for
the last days of our stay for us to have our experiences. The first came
about in this wise.

I had brought a letter to Max Nordau from America, but I heard after I
got to Paris that he was so fierce a woman hater, that I determined not
to present it. I read it over every once in awhile, but failed to screw
my courage to the sticking point, until one day I mentioned that I had
this letter, and Jimmie to my surprise threw up both hands, exclaiming:

"A letter to Max Nordau! Why, it is like owning a gold mine! Present it
by all means, and then tell us what he is like."

Afraid to present it in person, I sent it by mail, saying that I had
heard that he hated women and that I was scared to death of him, but if
he had a day in the near future on which he felt less fierce than usual,
I would come to see him, and I asked permission to bring a friend. By
"friend" I meant Jimmie.

The most charming note came in answer that a polished man of the world
could write--not in the least like the bear I had imagine