But now, the floor of the machine being not the most comfortable place in the world, Phil objected. “Say, Dad, why don’t you let Jack take Lucy in his car? He’s a fine driver, and he’d stick close to us all the time.”
“I think it would be safe enough,” Mrs. Payton added. “Mr. Turnbull says he has driven the car for years.”
Mr. Payton hesitated, giving the command to slow up, nevertheless. “Well, perhaps it would be better,” he agreed at last, but very reluctantly; “if you will promise to stay close to us all the time.” This last to Jack.
Jack promised readily and happily, and they turned back. A few minutes later they were on their way again, everybody comfortable, everybody happy, especially Lucile and Jack.
“I didn’t dare hope for this,” he whispered, as they followed in the wake of the big touring car. “The hat’s class!” he added, admiringly.
So the morning was spent in touring the great city. The girls were fascinated by the noise and bustle, the number and magnificence of the public buildings, and, most of all, by the gay little restaurants and cafes lining both sides of the broad boulevards.
“Imagine this at night!” said Jack, hugely enjoying Lucile’s unaffected delight in everything she saw. “Can’t you just see the lights spring up and the theater crowds gathering?”
“And we are going to see it all!” cried Lucile, clapping her hands and fairly dancing with delight. “Oh, Jack, I simply can’t wait; I can’t!”
Noon had come and passed. They had luncheon in a wonderful little restaurant near the Rue de la Paix, where they had enjoyed to the full of music and “all that,” and now the two automobiles, little and big, drew up before the magnificent piece of architecture, the Louvre.
Lucile caught her breath as she and Jack joined the group already assembled on the sidewalk. “The pictures you see give you absolutely no idea of it,” she breathed; “it must have been planned by an artist.” 177