“I do not entirely understand you, my dear Madam, and I wish that I might have many days to talk with you about these American customs,” I said as I put into my pocket the exchange money handed to me by the garcon.

“Well, it is not exactly an American custom I have been putting you next to, and I guess I’m patriotically glad that you don’t entirely understand.  Now, I’m going to put you on the train for Old Harpeth and kiss you good-bye for your mother.  I’m not trusting Frigeda, and she’s lingering.  Come on if your train leaves at six o’clock.”

And while she spoke, my interesting and fine woman rose and allowed me to assist her into her gray coat of tweed that was very like to mine.

It was with regret that I parted from that lady at the door of the taxicab that had been called for her, and I bent over and kissed her hand, the first woman that Mr. Robert Carruthers had ever so saluted.

“Good-bye, boy!  Remember, the tall timbers of Harpeth are best.  Run right down and get a Southern belle and beauty to settle down and have a dozen babies for you, just like ‘befo’ the war.’  Good-bye!  I’ll send you down a paper to-morrow.  I don’t suppose the New York journals ever penetrate the Harpeth Valley.  Good-bye again.”  And then my friend was gone, leaving me once more alone in New York and very shy of those tweed trousers, which I immediately put with me into another taxicab which was directed to the Pennsylvania Station.

At that Pennsylvania Station I remembered to send to my wicked Uncle an announcement by telegram of my arrival to him and then I got upon the train just in time for its departure.

I have remarked that life is like high waves of fate that break in sparkling white crests over buried mines, and I am now led to believe that many of those mines are but the habitation of mermaids of much mischief.  Are all ripples on life due to women at the bottom of the matter?  I do not know, but it would seem true from the things that immediately began to befall me.  And was it not I, a woman who was called daredevil, who began it all?

These Pullman cars of America in which to travel great distances, are very remarkable for their many strange adventures, and I was very much interested but also perturbed when the black garcon placed my bag and overcoat upon the floor at the feet of a very prim lady and left me to stand uncomfortably in the aisle before her.

“Your seat, sir, upper five,” he said, and departed with my fifty centimes, which is called a dime in America.

In the little division which I could see was marked five were two nice seats that were to each other face to face, but it appeared that neither of them was vacant for Mr. Robert Carruthers.  On one the lady sat with very stiff black silk skirts projecting from her sides, as did her thin elbows also in the stiffness of white linen.  Beside her, occupying the rest of her seat, was a hat with large black bows of equal