"I don't know," said Elise, smiling; "our plans are uncertain. But if we accept all the delightful invitations we're continually receiving, I don't know when we ever shall get back to New York."
The next day proved to be a most perfect one for an excursion of any sort. They started early, for they wanted to make a long, full day of it, and return in time for dinner.
The two automobiles were at the door by nine o'clock, and the party was soon embarked. As Mr. Farrington did not drive his own car, he went in the other car, sitting in front with Arthur Orara. In the tonneau of this car were Patty and Bert Chester. So in the other car rode Mrs. Farrington and Elise and the two Marchbanks. This arrangement seemed highly satisfactory to all concerned, and the procession of two cars started off gaily. Away they sped at a rapid speed along the Champs Elysees, through the Arch and away toward Versailles. The fresh, crisp morning air, the clear blue sky, and the bright sunlight, added to the exhilaration of the swift motion, endowed them all with the most buoyant spirits, and Patty felt sure she had never looked forward to a merrier, happier day.
She chatted with Bert Chester, and asked him many questions about the trip on which he was starting.
"I don't know just where we are going," he said. "I leave all that to Oram. The rest of us don't care, and Oram loves to spend hours hunting up reasons why we should go to this small village that is picturesque, or that tiny hamlet that is historic. I'm sure the queer little French towns will all look alike to me, and I'm not awfully keen about such things anyhow. I go for the out-door life, and the swift motion, and the fresh air and all that sort of thing."
"I love that part of it, too," said Patty, "but also I like seeing the funny little towns with their narrow streets and squealing dogs. I think I have never been through a French village that wasn't just spilling over with squealing dogs."
"That's because you always go through them in an automobile. If you were on a walking tour now, you'd find the dogs all asleep. But the paramount idea in a French dog's brain is that he was made for the purpose of waking up and barking at motor cars."
"Well, they're most faithful to what they consider their duty, then," said Patty, laughing, for even as she spoke they were whizzing through a straggling, insignificant little village, and dogs of all sizes and colours seemed to spring up suddenly from nowhere at all, and act as if about to devour the car and its occupants.
But notwithstanding the dogs, the villages were exceedingly picturesque, and Patty loved to drive through them slowly, that she might see glimpses of the life of the people. And it was almost always necessary to go slowly, for the streets were so narrow, and the sidewalks a mere shelf, so that pedestrians often walked in the road. This made it difficult to drive rapidly, and, moreover, many of the streets were steep and hilly.
"It never seems to matter," observed Patty, "whether you're going out of Paris or coming in; it's always uphill, and never down. I think that after you've climbed a hill, they whisk it around the other way, so that you're obliged to climb it again on your return."