“I am coming to that directly.  Mrs. Kenderdine had gone abroad to get medical advice:  as her health would permit her to take but little exercise, a morning drive, with receiving and paying visits (she is of an English family and well connected), was all she was capable of.

“It happened in this way that the only ones of our party fit for active duty were Fred—­I mean Mr. Kenderdine—­and myself.  As we had formed the habit of amusing each other on the voyage, we still continued it.  Aunt would join us when any historical site was to be visited; but there were many places that were not historical, but that were just as pleasant or as beautiful as if they had been, and to these we went together.  We stayed in London until the season was over, and then started for Paris.

“You can form no idea how aunt reveled in the antiquities of Paris.  If she went to the Musee Cluny in the morning, we might be sure we should see no more of her for that day at least.  She absolutely took rooms at Versailles for two weeks that she might study up the locale of the Pompadour, whom she regards as a female Richelieu, and she also found a rich field of investigation in the lives of the French queens.”

“And what were you doing all this time?”

“Oh!  I had professors, French, Italian and German, for the languages, I visited the galleries, and aunt would read me her notes, so that I was gaining much information.  You see, in a foreign country it is not the thing to sit in the house to study:  you must go about as much as possible and use your eyes, which is an education in itself.  That is what I was doing.”

“About your career, I mean?”

“Don’t be so impatient:  I am about to tell you.  We concluded to spend the winter in Rome, aunt and I:  the Kenderdines remained in Paris.  Aunt preceded me to Brussels about two weeks to explore the libraries there, as we were to make the Rhine tour before going to Italy.  I should have accompanied her, but we were expecting a remittance from home that had not arrived, and I was obliged to wait for it.  The day before I left Paris I was regretting that I had not been to Montmorency, and Mr. Kenderdine, who overheard me, proposed that as I did not mind fatigue we should go.  By starting early in the morning we could make our ‘last day,’ as he called it, a fete.  I consented, and we arranged to take the early train to Enghien, to breakfast there, ride through Montmorency to the Chateau de la Chasse, where we could have dinner, and return in time for the Belgian train in the evening.  The next morning I was ready, my riding-skirt in a satchel, and off we went.  The day was perfect, the air cool and delicious.  We took the cars at the Gare du Nord, and in less than an hour we arrived at Enghien, ordered breakfast at a charming little hotel that overlooks the lake, and had it brought to us on the balcony, from whence we could