“Meanwhile Charles Patterson had settled his bill at the Louvre, and with his traveling-bag, the only piece of luggage brought from home, he passed from the court into the Rue de Rivoli, and crossing the street walked rapidly to the gallery of the Louvre, where madame was waiting for him. There were a few words spoken between them, and then both walked across the grounds to the street which skirts the river, where Eugenie called a carriage, and bade the coachman drive to a second-rate furnishing house in an obscure part of the city, with which she had once been more familiar than she was now. It was a tolerably large establishment and supplied her with what she wanted, an entire outfit of a good substantial kind for a young English girl serving in the capacity of waiting-maid. There were several bundles, but Fred’s bag held them all, except the round straw hat which Eugenie carried herself, closely wrapped in paper. “‘Drive us to the station St. Lazare,’ she said to the coachman, and in the course of half an hour Fred found himself alone with his companion in a first-class carriage, speeding along toward Versailles. “Eugenie had spoken to the conductor, and thus secured the carriage to herself and Fred so that there was no one to see them when they opened the bag, and brought out one by one the different articles which were to transform the boy Frederic Strong into the girl _Fanny Shader_, who was to be Eugenie’s waiting-maid. For that was the plan, and with a little shrug of her shoulders and a significant laugh Eugenie said: “‘Now I go to sleep—very much asleep—while you make the grand toilet;’ and closing her eyes she leaned back in her seat, and to all human appearance slept soundly, while Fred arrayed himself in his feminine habiliments, which fitted him admirably and became him remarkably well. Fair-haired, pale-faced, blue-eyed and small, he had frequently taken the part of a girl in the little plays his school companions were always getting up in Millfield, so he was neither strange nor awkward in his new dress and character, but assumed both easily and naturally as if they had belonged to him all his life, and when at last he said: “‘I am ready; you can wake up now,’ and Eugenie opened her eyes; she started in astonishment and wonder, for instead of the delicate boy who had been her companion, there sat a good-sized girl, in a neatly-fitting brown stuff dress and sacque, with bands of white linen at the throat and wrists, and a dark straw hat perched jauntily upon the hair parted in the middle and curling naturally. The disguise was perfect, and Eugenie exclaimed delightedly: “‘Oh, _Mon Dieu, c’est une grande success_. You make such _joli_ girl. Nobody suspect ever. Now you must be _bien attentif_ to me. You carry my shawl; you pick up my _mouchoir_, so;’ and she dropped her handkerchief to see how adroitly the new maid would stoop and hand it to her. It was well done, and Eugenie continued: