Tours was our next stop. We went straight to the cathedral, which is very lovely. As we walked around toward the back, I saw a beautiful black dog tied to a little push-cart and approached it making appropriate remarks. Quick as a wink it jumped up and bit me, tearing my dress, but giving me only a scratch. This was considered very funny, as I had been remarking what a way I had with animals. I have since learned that such dogs are trained to bite anything that approaches the push-cart in its master’s absence.

Marje was particularly anxious to go the rounds of the antique shops in Tours. Her mother and father had once spent a good deal of time there, and she was anxious to see the city and also to try to match some china that her mother had bought there. I usually stiffen my neck and keep my eyes front when I see an antique shop and especially since Leo has come into my life! I have been really meticulous in my studied inattention! But here we positively ran into the jaws of the enemy. Marje bought a million dollars’ worth of gorgeous dark blue and gold cups, the kind that are supposed to be made only in Tours. I came off with a little imitation one for two francs, fifty centimes, which will mean as much to me when I drink tea from it with Leo at my back.

From Tours we ran along the edge of the Loire. We were weary of asking for essence, so you can imagine our delight to be able to get as much as we wanted just outside of the city. You see, essence is practically unobtainable in Paris, and at best at a very high figure, so that we were anxious to get enough to run on for a while until we should be able to get a special order from the MinistÈre de la Guerre on account of ours being a work for charity.

We spent that night at Amboise. It was bitterly cold, but wonderfully picturesque. The hotel faced on the water front, and up the hill, and on the right, was a lovely chÂteau. The “Cheval blanc,” as the hotel is called, was very quaint, but, like all things quaint, as cold as an iceberg. We sat around the little stove in the dining-room after dinner and did our accounts, no simple matter. We got to laughing so over the state of our affairs that our additions and subtractions—chiefly subtractions—showed the effects, no doubt. That famous black velvet hat of mine I had worn down in the train when I went to Pau, not knowing that I should make the trip home in a Ford ambulance. Fortunately I had my little brown hat with me to wear back, but the body of the car was so congested, with our gasoline, our suitcases, the thermos bottles, Marje’s china, and the automobile tools, that the hat suffered considerably—to put it mildly.

At Amboise Mrs. Shurtleff admitted that she had been very ill during the night. She wanted to go to Chenonceaux just the same, however. We gave only a fleeting glance at the gem of all the chÂteaux and hurried on to Blois. I was driving that morning and I shall never forget the ride. Mrs. Shurtleff was really suffering badly and freezing cold; she was anxious to get the first train to Paris to get home to her husband. So, of course, you can imagine what a hurry we were in, but the roads were rough and full of country carts, and I could see that driving fast made her nervous. It was cold and windy, as I have said; but I had my coat open and was covered with perspiration by the time we crossed the bridge and arrived at Blois.

We took Mrs. Shurtleff to a little hotel close to the railroad-station, where she lay down and begged us to leave her and go off and have a good time. We said that we would and that we would come back in plenty of time to put her on the 7.40 train for Paris. We hadn’t had anything to eat all day and were too tired to think; and the thought of the chÂteau was a little too much for us. So we went to a pÂtisserie for some hot chocolate. We ate every cake in the place and got up so much spunk that we decided to give the chÂteau the once over. It was late and the place was supposed to be closed, but a nice guide took us through. When we returned we found Mrs. Shurtleff a little better, and with one grand effort she rose and took the train.

We went to a comfortable hotel and didn’t waste much time in getting between the sheets. The next day was fine, and Marje suggested going to Chaumont and Chambord and not trying to get to Paris until the following day. She said that as long as she reached Paris by Sunday night it would be all right. So we went to that heavenly Chaumont, my favorite of all the chÂteaux,—do you remember my writing enthusiastically about Blois on the way down to Pau? It was the castle of Chaumont that I thought was the castle of Blois, and it is as fascinating when you actually visit it as it is from the train; but as for Blois I never want to see it again. Chaumont is filled with beautiful tapestries and furniture. The situation high over the Loire is magnificent, and it is the only chÂteau that we saw which is set in a large park, studded with great trees. How I hated to hurry away! In the afternoon we went to Chambord, which is a marvel of construction, but cold and unromantic. It is hardly furnished at all and its most interesting feature is the promenade on the roof, where you walk in and out among its three hundred and sixty-five chimneys. We arrived in OrlÉans at about five o’clock and went straight to the cathedral. Jeanne d’Arc completely dominates the city and the cathedral; the latter is to me one of the most beautiful I have ever seen, being harmonious throughout in style and period. The stained glass is uniform—modern, of course—telling the story of the “Pucelle de France.” Marje and I clung to each other in the fading light and drank in the quiet and beauty of those great arches.

We went to a very nice hotel, and in engaging a room we asked the proprietor how far it was to Paris. We said we wanted to be sure to make it by Sunday night. He said: “But this is Sunday night.” We looked at him amazed and gave in to his whim for the moment. We stepped out and bought the paper and found that it really was Sunday! I never felt so completely lost in my life! Of course we had forgotten to count out the time we had spent in Blois with Mrs. Shurtleff, but it gave us quite a start, I can tell you, particularly as Marje was so anxious to get home. We did not let the grass grow under our feet the next day, believe me. We had luncheon at Chartres and gave about ten minutes to the cathedral. I drove from Chartres, and at Maintenon I stopped to take a picture of the chÂteau reflected in the lake. Marje wandered off for a few minutes to watch the old women in the market-place, and while I was standing there alone two officers came up to me and one of them said, “Are you English?” I said, “No, American.” “Have you your papers, your permis de conduire?” I felt my knees give way, but I hung on to the bridge that I was standing on, and said smilingly, “Oui, Monsieur.” “All right,” he said hesitatingly, and passed on. Of course, it was only Marje that had her permis, and I don’t know just what would have happened if they had pressed the matter further, for I didn’t have a sign of a permis and they had seen me drive. Marje insists, however, that it would have been all right because she could have said that she was teaching me. I was pretty grateful, I can tell you, to have had one smile left just the same.

At Versailles we were surprised to find that we could buy still more gasoline. We couldn’t understand because there is never enough in Paris. We bought all that we could carry, however, and started for home. When we came to the crossroads where it says: “Saint-Cloud, 11 K.M. and SÈvres 6 K.M.,” we decided to take the road to SÈvres, although people had always warned us not to. We soon found out why. The road is hilly and covered with cobblestones the entire way; but we really didn’t care, when we caught sight of the Eiffel Tower. At the gate of Paris there was an armed soldier standing in a sentry box, and as we slowed down to go through the gate I leaned out and said, “Bon jour, Monsieur.”

Once in Paris we found that we were completely lost, having brought everything with us but a map of Paris. It was too provoking, but here my refugee knowledge did me good service, and I picked my way in and out among the slums and found the way straight to our Lion de Belfort. We had enough energy left to start unpacking that dear little car that was stuffed full to the roof. The people at the pension were all excitement, and the maids ran up and down stairs helping us with our things. We went over at once to Mrs. Shurtleff. We found her looking worn. We knew how anxious she must have been to know that we had arrived safely, so that you can imagine how we felt when we tiptoed into the room and found that she was so weak that all she could do was to turn her head on the pillow and say, “Hello, girls!” We found that she had fainted twice coming up on the train, but that Miss Curtis had taken care of her at the station.

After seeing Mrs. Shurtleff, we took the car to Miss Curtis’s because we knew no place to leave it overnight. We did not feel much like a triumphal entry, but Miss Curtis and Miss Sturgis were so glad to see us that all we had to do was to answer questions and get back to Place Denfert as soon as possible.

Well, that is our trip. It certainly was interesting and it laid the foundations of my friendship with Marje, who is the finest ever. It is worth everything to me to have her companionship.

Time is up.