Next day Gustav called, bringing his wife, Irene, and his two daughters, Nerissa and Dorcas. Our first impression, I must say, was not favorable; but Nerissa was really a beautiful girl. Genuine worth, however, cannot long conceal itself, and we were not slow to discover the noble qualities of Eva's friends. Auntie took us out next day. Coming home, we found auntie's maid packing her trunk, and learned that we were to start for Havre that afternoon. Delighted at the thought of new scenes were we. After discussion we decided to go by an overland route as far as the river Yonne, down which we sailed until we reached the mouth. Then from there we sailed to Havre. As we were tired out we were glad to rest at the Thiers house. Going out next day, we met an old friend, Olive Easton, who had married and settled in a small village on the Seine, near Beauveau. Yet we were glad to leave this lively seaport town behind us and sail up the Seine again. Our destination this time was Marseilles. Entering it, we purchased a copy of the _Literary Idler_. This we hastened to peruse, reading very eagerly the news from Toulon and Tameraque. Lest inquiries should be made respecting this paper, let me say that it is one of the few English papers published in foreign cities. Gustav sent us a letter containing an invitation to the wedding of his daughter Olivia, which was to take place in October, and as this was December, he thought that we might be there in time. Nerissa also sent us a note, telling us in confidence that her marriage was to follow Olivia's, as soon as her Theodore was able to provide a cozy home for her. I was anxious to attend the wedding. Next morning while poring over a copy of _Dreams_, with Raphael, the hotel cat, curled up in my lap, Eva entered and announced that an old friend of ours from Austin was in Marseilles and would call upon us the next afternoon. I was in a flutter of joy, and forgetting my book, ran away to tell my sister of the good news. Nothing ever ruffled my sister's composure, but the light in her eyes told that she would be glad to see George Ogden. Five years ago we three played together as children, George always treating my sister with admiring deference, but finding fault with me whenever opportunity offered. Ruby Eliot had written to us that her cousin from Austin was wintering in Toulon, but we had not thought of meeting him here. The next afternoon our maid Harriette was nearly crazed by the demands made upon her time and taste. I gave up in despair, and confined myself to looking like a fright in a dark red silk. Not so with my sister, who was perfectly exquisite in a dove-colored silk and white lace. George called at half past four, and, of course, gave all his attention to Sarah.