But Cissy had not observed him, and though Marion amused herself by trying to guess the riddle she not succeed in doing so. The incident, however, was not without its use, for during the long journey to Paris, it took her thoughts a little off what had been engrossing them to an undesirable extent—her brother’s troubles. Thinking seemed to bring her no suggestion as to any way of obtaining the thirty pounds, so she at last made the manful resolution for a time to dismiss the subject from her mind, and when arrived at Altes, if no other idea should strike her, to consult with Cissy, who was certainly quick-witted enough, and also thoroughly to be trusted once she really understood the necessity for silence on any particular subject. The journey to Paris, including that horror of mild voyagers, crossing the channel, was safely accomplished. A day or two in the Paradise of milliners, during which time Cissy underwent torments, compared to which those of Tantalus were as nothing, from the sight of palaces of delight, yclept “magasins de modes,” into which she dared not venture, and from which her only safety was in flight. A heartrending parting scene between Foster and her beloved Master Charlie, whose heroic fortitude gave way at the last; and again the little party, now reduced to three, are off on their travels. “Now my dear Marion,” said Cissy, with the air of a very small Jeanne d’Arc about to lead an army into battle, “now our adventures are about to begin. Behold in me your only pillar of defence, your only refuge in danger, and—all that sort of thing, you know. Do be quiet Charlie; what is the matter with you?” “Foster promised to buy one a gun in case we meet wobbers and fiefs,” said Charlie dole-fully, “and she forgot.” “Never mind, child, I’ll get you one at Altes. I only wish we were there!” said his mother. “By-the-by, Cissy, have you heard any more about our lodgings at Altes?” enquired Marion. “Oh dear yes, I got an answer to any letter just as we started this morning, but I’ve hardly read it yet,” and as she spoke, Mrs. Archer drew it from her pocket. “Yes, that’s all right. It is from Bailey, the English doctor at Altes, to whom mine at home gave me an introduction. It’s really very kind. He says he has engaged a charming apartement for me, and cheap too, and that the daughter of the somebody—who is it, Marion? Oh, I see, the propriétaire. Yes, the daughter of the propriétaire, Madame Poulin, will be very happy to act as maid and look after Charlie. That’s a blessing. And he, that’s Dr. Bailey, will send some one to meet us on our arrival, so after all, Marion, we need not be afraid of meeting with much in the way of adventures.” “Is inventures fiefs, Mamma?” asked Charlie, “for if they are, you needn’t he afraid. I can pummel them even without a gun. And take care of you too, May, if you’re good.”