“How many vote for victorias?” asked Patricia, “hands up.” Every hand at the little table went up, and as the girls at the table close by had heard the question, theirs as well were lifted.
“It is already arranged. Several of you had spoken of it—victorias it is. Now for shopping. I will go with Marjorie, Jean and Rhoda, for they seem to have the most to do. The rest of you meet us at the hotel in not less than an hour. There is a drug store right here on the corner, a department store half block in that direction. Keep in mind this corner and the way to the hotel. Hilary, you are in charge.”
Hilary pretended to be much honored and the rest of the girls began to joke her by asking if they might do the most obviously proper things. But they had little shopping to do and arranged to meet at the entrance of the big store.
“Listen,” said Cathalina, as they were returning to the hotel. “That boy has a French paper. I’m going to get one. I had no idea that Montreal was so French, though I heard some French spoken on the boat, of course.”
“I heard a lady say that Montreal is fifty per cent French, and that of that fifty per cent ninety per cent can not speak English.”
“No wonder, then, Betty, that they have both French and English on the shop signs. I should like to spend a summer up here some time. No need of going abroad to keep up your French!” Later, Cathalina discovered that McGill University has many such summer pupils.
Duly at two-thirty, three victorias, drivers high in the air, rolled away from the hotel to see the Canadian city of Montreal.
“O, I feel so English,” sighed Marjorie.
“Me, too,” said Rhoda, “but I think they ought to be called ‘Queen Marys’ now instead of victorias!”
“Did you notice, Rhoda,” drawled Helen, “what our elderly waiter said to you last night?”