I was pleased that the Allens would go with me—I run over there quite a lot and they always have something extra for me, and are kindness itself, anyway. But I discovered I had just twenty francs to my name. Now the Chinese Umbrella has the best straight American food in town, but it is expensive, as everything is nowadays. I never was so nervous.
I met the Ambulance boys safely enough and painted a colorful picture of Marje’s departure and they were successfully thrilled.
But for dinner—we had orangeade and fried chicken, slipping around our plates with no vegetables (happily the asparagus had been used up—also the potatoes!); cornbread, and finally strawberry shortcake. When pay time came I stepped into the office planning to throw myself on Miss Pabris’s (the proprietor’s) neck if all were not well. She knows me because I got a job through Mrs. Shurtleff for one of my protégées washing dishes at the Chinese Umbrella. But it was nineteen francs. I pulled out my francs, and largesse with a stray fifty centimes, and stepped proudly out—not knowing where Metro tickets, not to mention a taxi, were to come from.
As we passed the kitchen windows a voice hailed me and there was Mme. Beau, my friend and protégée, with a dishtowel clutched in one hand, and five francs extended in the other. The poor thing owed it to me, she said. I had utterly forgotten it; part of some money I had lent her when her baby died. Mrs. Shurtleff thought it was better to have her pay part of it back.
Well, there was supply—what cared I for the Metro? We looked for a taxi, but there was none to be had. So I contented myself with buying three tickets as pompously as possible.
On Monday, hard work moving furniture and taking packages with two amusing Ambulance boys, just landed, to help me. One from Montana, the best-looking thing you could hope to see, was equally entertaining on the subject of the “Harvard Sisters” who had come over on the boat with him, and of his Paris experiences.
From tea-time on, I was all ears to hear Marje drive up. Finally she came. About 8.30 it was. Such a lot as she had to tell. Perhaps I shall have something first hand for you some day, but certainly what she said was worth talking about. The party was made up of two carloads; among them, Mr. and Mrs. Will Irwin, and Mrs. Norman Hapgood.
Now I could never drive a car over such roads or take care of the engine or tires if there should be any trouble (Marje had three punctures), so my idea is to go as a journalist and take the same route as this party did. Do you think, Father, you could get me a chance? Think over your newspaper acquaintance.
Devotedly,
Esther.