Such a hotel, Mamma!  And Uncle John and Aunt Maria had to have the only big bedroom on the first floor, and Mr. Renour and I were given two little ones communicating on the back part.  They thought of course we were of the same party, and married.

“Madame” could have the inner one, they explained, and “Monsieur” the outer!  Aunt Maria, who thought, I suppose, they said Agnes, not “Monsieur,” smiled pleasantly and agreed—­that would be “tout a fait bien.”  Of course if Horatio Thomas Nelson Renour had been a Frenchman, or even heaps of Englishmen we know, he would have been delighted; instead of which he got perfectly crimson all over his bronzed face and explained in fearful French to the landlady he could not sleep except on a top floor.  Wasn’t it nice of him, Mamma?

Dinner was at seven o’clock in the table d’hote, and about eight commercial travellers were already seated when we got down.  We had glass racks to put our forks and knives on, and that wrung out kind of table linen, not ironed, but all beautifully clean; and wonderfully good food.

Uncle John made one end of our party and Mr. Renour the other, with Aunt Maria and me in the middle, and the commercial travellers, who all tucked in their table napkins under their chins, beyond.  The American was so amusing:—­it was his language, not exactly what he said.  I shall get into it soon and tell you some of the sentences, but at first it is too difficult.  Presently he said he did not understand about English titles; he supposed I had one, but he was not “kinder used to them,” so did I mind his calling me Lady Elizabeth, as he heard Aunt Maria calling me Elizabeth, and he felt sure “Miss” wouldn’t be all right, but would “Lady” be near enough?  I said, quite, I was so enchanted, Mamma, to be taken for a young girl, after having been married nearly seven years and being twenty-four last month!  I would not undeceive him for the world, and as we shall never see him again it won’t matter.  Think, too, how cross Harry—­but I won’t speak of him!

Aunt Maria had an amiable smile on all the time.  Can you imagine them dining in a public room in an English hotel!  The idea would horrify her, but she says no one should make fusses travelling, and I believe she would look just as pleased if we were shipwrecked on a desert island.

There was no salon to sit in after dinner, and the moon came out, so Mr. Renour suggested we ought to see the church, which is one of the things marked in the guide book.  Uncle John said he would light his cigar and come with us, while Aunt Maria went to bed, but when we got outside the dear old fellow seemed tired and was quite glad to return when I suggested it; so the American and I went on alone.  I must say, Mamma, it is lovely being married, when one comes to think of it, being able to stroll out like this with a young man all alone;—­and I have never had the chance before, with Harry always so jealous, and forever at my heels.  I shall make hay while