I walked about a good deal in my quarter in the morning, and made acquaintance with many funny little old squares and shops, merceries, flower and toy shops which had not yet been swallowed up by the enormous establishments like the Louvre, the Bon Marché, and the big bazaars. I don't know how they existed; there was never any one in the shops, and of course their choice was limited, but they were so grateful, their things were so much cheaper, and they were so anxious to get anything one wanted, that it was a pleasure to deal with them. Everything was much cheaper on that side--flowers, cakes, writing-paper, rents, servants' wages, stable equipment, horses' food. We bought some toys one year for one of our Christmas trees in the country from a poor old lame woman who had a tiny shop in one of the small streets running out of the rue du Bac. Her grandson, a boy of about twelve or fourteen, helped her in the shop, and they were so pleased and excited at having such a large order that they were quite bewildered. We did get what we wanted, but it took time and patience,--their stock was small and not varied. We had to choose piece by piece--horses, dolls, drums, etc.--and the writing down of the items and making up the additions was long and trying. I meant to go back after we left the Quai d'Orsay, but I never did, and I am afraid the poor old woman with her petit commerce shared the fate of all the others and could not hold out against the big shops. One gets lazy about shopping. The first years we lived in the country we used to go ourselves to the big shops and bazaars in Paris for our Christmas shopping, but the heat and the crowd and the waiting were so tiring that we finally made arrangements with the woman who sold toys in the little town, La Ferté-Milon. She went to Paris and brought back specimens of all the new toys. We went into town one afternoon--all the toys were spread out on tables in her little parlour at the back of the shop (her little girl attending to the customers, who were consumed with curiosity as to why our carriage was waiting so long at the door) and we made our selection. She was a great help to us, as she knew all the children, their ages, and what they would like. She was very pleased to execute the commission--it made her of importance in the town, having the big boxes come down from Paris addressed to her, and she paid her journey and made a very good profit by charging two or three sous more on each article. We were quite willing to pay the few extra francs to be saved the fatigue of the long day's shopping in Paris. It also settled another difficult question--what to buy in a small country town. Once we had exhausted the butcher and the baker and the small groceries, there was not much to buy.