As Patty looked about at their gaily decorated dining place, and looked out at the brilliantly lighted scene outside, where the vari-coloured electric lights hung in shining festoons, she came to the conclusion that Paris was a gay and bright place after all, though when she had entered it that first night, less than a week ago, she had thought it rather dark and oppressive,

“It is dark,” said Phil, as Patty expressed her thoughts; “to be sure, a place like this is illuminated, but the streets are not half lighted, and I think it’s a shame.”

“London streets at night aren’t much better as to light,” said Bert, “but I say, you fellows, you just ought to see the streets in New York at night.  Whew! they’re so bright they just dazzle you, don’t they, Patty?”

“Broadway does, but the other streets aren’t so awfully light.”

“Well, they’re a lot lighter than they are over here.  But Paris is the worst of all.  Why, I’m scared to be out after nightfall.”

“If that’s the case,” said Mrs. Farrington, laughing, “we’d better be starting now; and at any rate, it’s high time my young charges were at home.  I hadn’t expected Patty and Elise to indulge in quite such grown-up gaieties as dining out here, but I hadn’t the heart to refuse for them your kind invitation.”

Bert expressed his gratitude that Mrs. Farrington had made an exception in his favour, and then the whole party started homeward.

When she reached there, Patty was so tired she could scarcely talk over the pleasures of the day with Elise, and she tumbled into bed without so much as a look at her beloved Vendome Column.

But the next day found the two girls entirely rested and quite ready for more jaunting about.

But Mrs. Farrington declared that she could do no sightseeing that day, as the somewhat fatiguing trip to Versailles made her quite contented to rest quietly for a time.

So Patty employed her morning happily enough in writing letters home and in arranging her post-card album.

“I’m so glad,” she said to Elise, “that Clementine gave me this great big album, for I see already it is none too large.  I’ve taken out all the New York views and laid them aside.  I shall probably give them to somebody, as there is no sense in carrying them home again.  And I’m filling the book with Paris views.  Isn’t it fortunate they invented post-cards, for unmounted photographs do curl up so, and I hate those little books of views.”

“Indeed, it’s fine, Patty, and you’re arranging them beautifully.  I can’t do that sort of thing at all; I’m as clumsy at it as a hippopotamus.  But I’d love to have a book like yours to take home.”

“I’ll give you this one,” said Patty quickly, and she truly meant it, for she was generous by nature, and, too, she was glad to give Elise something that she really wanted.

“I wouldn’t take it! you needn’t think I’m a pig if I am a hippopotamus!”