The afternoon was devoted to the gardens and the Trianons.
Elise was enraptured with the garden, but Patty, while she admired them very much, thought them too stiff and formal for her taste. Laid out, as they are, according to the laws of geometrical symmetry, it seemed to Patty that grace and beauty were sacrificed to squares and straight lines.
But none the less was she interested in the wonderful landscape, and amazed that any grass could be so green as that of the marvelous green carpet. The multitude of statues and fountains, the walks and terraces, and the exquisite colours of the autumn trees, made a picture that Patty never forgot.
The Trianons presented new delights, and Patty fancied herself transported back to the days of Marie Antoinette and her elaborately planned pleasures.
A place of especial interest was the carriage house, where are exhibited the Royal State carriages.
As they were about to enter, Phil Marchbanks, who was ahead, turned round with a look of comical dismay on his face.
"We can't go in," he said; "we can't fulfil their requirements!"
"What do you mean?" said Patty.
"Why here's a sign that says 'wet umbrellas must be left in the cloak room.' You see, it's imperative,—and as we have no wet umbrellas to leave in the cloak room, whatever shall we do?"
"Isn't it awful!" said Patty. "Of course, we can't go in if we don't fulfil their laws. But it's a foolish law, and better broken than kept, so I propose we march on in spite of it."