Mrs. Rowe answered him with a kiss. And when she had hurried on his dry garments, she yielded him up to his father and the rest of the family to be loved and petted, as if he had been a very good instead of a very mischievous little fellow.
CHAPTER XI
WHAT STRANGE COUNTRIES!
“Oh, isn’t it nice, Molly, that we’re all going to Ruin?” exclaimed Weezy, giving her sister’s hand an ecstatic squeeze under the table.
They were breakfasting again at Hotel Frascati, their party having returned the night before to Havre.
“Don’t say Ruin, Weezybus! You mix it up with the other ruins; but it’s a city, and it’s called Rouen,” corrected laughing Molly, ending the name with a nasal flourish.
“How silly! I should think they’d know better!” retorted the young American critic. But at the approach of a waiter she immediately became mute. She had a private conviction that these black-coated individuals must comprehend English, they looked so wise.
On leaving the dining-room, Weezy and her friends passed out into the spacious vestibule, and there waited for the carriage which was to convey them to the station. Jane Leonard was with the others, free from headache and keeping a strict watch over frisky little Donald.
As they stood at the foot of the long staircase, the hotel servants—concierge, garçons, maids in white caps and all—crowded around them.
“They’re sorry we’re going away, aren’t they, Molly? Just as sorry as they can be,” whispered gratified Weezy.
“There, you’re mistaken, little miss,” said Paul, who had overheard the remark. “They’re only hanging around for a fee.”