Oh, a most excellent circus that puts on a lot of style! The band blared out the same old music, marches for the athletes to come stalking in by and polkas to mark time for the horses, and a really most beautiful creature, she looks a little like Mona Lisa, performed on the trapeze—it was great, great fun.
As I can’t go up to Paris, isn’t it possible for you to sail home by way of Naples so I can get a glimpse of you?
POLLY TO A. D.
Leicestershire,
October.
On coming back from a drive today, dear, we saw some gypsies camped by the roadside, so we stopped and gave them the remains of our picnic luncheon. They invited us into their tents and told our fortunes. An old gypsy declared the cards said a gray-eyed woman with a mysterious smile might give me trouble and that a handsome man in the south would disappoint me. Now what do you think of that?
Say to Peppi that I hope he is not falling in love with that trapeze girl for Aunt wouldn’t like it. But how about you?
You ask if I want you to stop writing sweet things to me,—why, of course, I don’t. Every girl likes love letters. But you needn’t feel obliged to, you know. We have a few days with the Prince in Paris, then sail for home, sweet home.