him away early. Monday evening he dropped in again just after
dinner: "Do not let me derange you in the least, je vous en prie,
madame. I come early because I am engaged to three balls to-night."

Miss St. Clair could hardly have been more mute and statue-like if she
had been born and bred in France, where in the presence of gentlemen
young girls silently adhere to their brilliant mothers, whose wit and
grace and social tact make the charm of the Parisian salons. Apparently,
the French consider that the combined attractions of youthful faces and
sprightly conversation would be too much for any man, and mercifully
divide the two. And this leaves them helpless before a little American
girl, laughing, talking, jesting, teasing, till, bewildered by such a
phenomenon, they are swept down so easily that one is reminded of
Attila's taunt to the Romans, "The thicker the grass, the quicker it is
mowed."

This social etiquette was very irksome to my little firefly, who seemed
always opening and shutting her wings. In the course of the evening M.
Vergniaud slipped into her hand, unperceived by any of us, a closed
envelope with the whisper, "Put it in your pocket. Do not let any one
see you."

She opened it deliberately: "M. Vergniaud is so kind as to give me his
photograph, Madame Fleming. Do you think it a good likeness?"

The mystery which French people are fond of attaching to harmless
trifles is inconceivable. One evening, in the earlier part of our stay
in Paris, a cousin of Miss St. Clair's, who was in the same hotel with
Mr. Denham, called on us, and when he was taking leave she held out an
unsealed note: "Will you give this to Fred? Don't forget it."

Madame Le Fort was thunderstruck: "Is it possible? Send a note to a
young gentleman right before Madame Fleming and all of us!"

"Why," said I, "do young people never write notes to each other in
France?" "Not openly like that--little three-cornered notes to slip
into the hand while dancing."

"This is the way to fold them," said Clarice, taking up a small sheet of
paper. "You see that will just fit into the hollow of the hand, and
nobody could ever see it."

"I like our way much better. What is done openly is not half so
mischievous."

"Nor half so interesting," rejoined Clarice.

The nimble hours danced on, as they had a trick of doing in Madame Le
Fort's salon. "I am afraid you forget the three balls, M. Vergniaud."

"How can you be so cruel, mademoiselle? I