eration, if not in a prehistoric age! It was so old that
it was a shifting, lumpy mass of brittle chaff, whose individual units
at unexpected moments punctured the ticking and, nettle-wise, stuck
through the coarse sheet. It was not comfortable. It had not been
comfortable all night. Truly, the best that could be said for the Bas
Rhone was that, as Father Anton in his gentle way had taken pains to
make it clear, its proprietors were well-intentioned--and that was a
source of comfort only as far as it went!

Myrna Bliss wriggled drowsily into another position--and a moment later
wriggled back into the old one. Then she opened her eyes, and stared
about her. The morning sun was streaming in through the window. She
observed this with sleepy amazement. After all then, she must have
slept more than she had imagined, in spite of the awful bed.

The _lap-lap-lap_ of the sea came to her. In through the open window
floated the voices of children at play in the street; from down on the
beach the sound of men's voices, shouting and calling cheerily to each
other, reached her; from below stairs some sort of a family reunion
appeared to be in progress. She could hear that absurd Papa Fregeau
talking as though he were a soda-water bottle with the cork suddenly
exploded!

"Ah, _mignonne--cherie_! You are back! You will go away no more--not
for a day! I have been in despair! It is the Americans! I have been
miserable! _Tiens, embrasse-moi_, my little Lucille!"

There was the commotion of a playful struggle, then the resounding
smack of a kiss--and then a woman's voice.

"Such a simpleton as you are, _mon_ Jacques!"--it was as though one
were talking to a child. "So they have put you in despair, these
Americans! Well, then, I am back. And listen!"--importantly. "What
do you think?"

"Think?" cried Papa Fregeau excitedly. "But I do not think!"

"That is true," was the response; "so I will tell you. They are going
away this morning."

"_Merci_!" exclaimed Papa Fregeau fervently. "I am very glad!"

"They are going to Marie-Louise's."

"To Marie-Louise's!"--incredulously. "You tell me that they are going
to Marie-Louise's?"

"Yes; to Marie-Louise's, stupid! Father Anton came an hour ago to make
the arrangements. They are to rent the house, and Marie-Louise is to
remain there _en domestique_. Now what have you to say to that?"

"_Mon Dieu_!" ejaculated Papa Fregeau, with intense earnestness. "That
I