Everything went all right until this morning; we left Versailles at dawn—­how they were ever ready I don’t know, considering the tremendous lot of wraps and pillows and footwarmers and heaven knows what they have;—­besides Uncle John saying all the time it is their second honeymoon.  However, we got off, and as we have been on the road two days, even Janet, who is naturally as meek as a mouse, is beginning to “turn” at her seat in the rumble; because, it having rained and there being no dust, she and Uncle John’s valet are covered with mud instead, each time we arrive at a place, and have to be scraped off before they can even enter a hotel.

Agnes would simply have had a fit of blue rage if one had put her there;—­as it is she is having an affair with the chauffeur.  There must be an epidemic in the air now for women of forty to play with boys, as they get it even in her class.  What was I saying, Oh! yes—­Well, the first trouble began with a burst tyre, and we all had to get out while the new one was being put on; and as we were standing near, another car came up from the opposite direction, and would have passed us, only I suppose Aunt Maria looked so unusual the occupants stopped—­occupant, I meant—­it was an American—­and asked if it—­he, I mean, could be of any assistance.  Uncle John, who thinks it right to gain information whenever he can from travellers, said, No, not materially, but he would be obliged to know if the country we were coming to was smooth or not.  Then we knew it was an American!  In those big coats one can’t tell the nation at first, but directly he said:  “It’s like a base-ball ground—­and I should say you’d find any machine could do it—­” we guessed at once.  He was so nice looking, Mamma—­rather ugly, but good looking all the same; you know what I mean.  His nose was crooked but his jaw was so square, and he had such jolly brown eyes—­and they twinkled at one, and he was very, very tall.  “We hope to get to Dijon tonight,” Uncle John said.  “Can you tell us, sir, if we shall have any difficulty?” The American did not bother to raise his hat or any fuss, but just got out of his car and told the facts to Uncle John; and then he turned to the chauffeur, who was fumbling with the tyre—­it was something complicated, not only just the bursting—­and in a minute or two he was down in the mud giving such practical advice.  And you never heard such slang!  But I believe men like that sort of thing, as the chauffeur was not a bit offended at being interfered with.

When they had finished grovelling, he got in again, and Uncle John insisted upon exchanging cards with the stranger.  He got out his from some pocket, but the American had not one.  “By the living jingo,” he said, “I’ve no bit of pasteboard handy—­but my name is Horatio Thomas Nelson Renour—­and you’ll find me any day at the Nelson Building, Osages City, Nevada.  This is my first visit to Europe.”  Perhaps I am not repeating exactly the right American, Mamma, but it was something like that.  But I wish you could have seen him, I know you would have liked him as I did.  Wait till I tell you what he did afterwards, then you will, anyway.  “Anyway” is American—­you see I have picked it up already!