We breakfast any time after 9 A.M., and we babies (Rootie and myself) have an EGG for breakfast. That does not sound like anything to you, but it means a lot to us--nice, fresh eggs that are brought in by a girl who makes me think of Josey, she is so persistent; the poor hens hardly have time to lay, she is looking for the eggs so constantly! Also we have our coffee more like American citizens! No more boiled milk for us; also toasted bread. We find that the bread here is very good, and particularly so when toasted. After breakfast, we all sit around and plan what is to happen. Usually Miss Sturgis and Miss Curtis and Miss Buchanan go off to paint, leaving Rootie and myself. We try to write a few letters, but it is awfully hard, with all the things we want to talk over now that we have the time, and with the delightful peasant women cutting the hay and doing the gardening right under our windows. Also there is always Marthe, very different, very quiet and gentle, and quite reconciled to our queer ways; but Marthe cannot get over the "Demoiselles" putting butter on fried potatoes! However, she brushes our clothes so hard and so faithfully that it makes me wish I had brought my suit down to be cared for by her. Luncheon comes at 12.30, or whatever time we get home. We have a way of just running up to the top of the hill for one peep at the sea at 12.15, which gives us great joy, and does not seem to bother the maids. We eat on the porch, all covered with honeysuckle, roses, and with a beautiful fig tree just outside.