I had ordered the whole dinner from Coute's, a store near by that has very good cooked things, and which offered to send in everything piping hot ready to eat. This last suggestion appealed to me, especially as Miss B---- has no gas, and cooks on her stove, which was built to heat,--not to cook. Rootie having charge of the decorations fixed up the place cards prettily, and arranged the fruit. We were fifteen. Every one arrived on time, but the dinner! I began to get nervous at about five minutes to one, for the meal was ordered at 12.30, and I was afraid it must have gone astray. Dulles and Mlle. Herzog volunteered to go to Coute's and try to find our dinner. After they had left, the brilliant thought occurred to me that maybe I had told them the wrong number of the street. It is 18, Bd. Edgar Quinet, 18 like the Vestiaire, but not like the Daguerre number, --19, --and the more I thought it over the more sure I was that I had sent the dinner to 19! This thought did not cheer the company, as there is a very large cemetery opposite Miss B----'s and goodness only knew where the number 19 might be, so I put on my fur coat and new hat, which is very tall, and therefore heavy, and started out to find number 19. I started slowly, but as I went farther and farther, I got more and more nervous, and began to trot and then to run. I arrived in front of 19, which was an exceptionally shady-looking stable, bar, hardware shop, just in time to see Coute's boy, on one of those bicycle-pushcart affairs, piking down the street!! You have no idea of what a feeling that gave me. He seemed to be going fifty miles a minute, and with him was our whole dinner!! I let out a war-whoop, and started after. That coat of mine which Aunty gave me is not patterned after a running-suit, and to say that it and my hat, which toppled over my eyes every minute, and the snow, which was just perfect for coasting, hampered me, is putting it mildly. However, there was nothing to do but to run, so I ran; and after about a block (which seemed three to me), I attracted his attention, and also that of all the population of the Latin Quarter. He stopped and was most agreeable; said he had looked everywhere for the right house, but had found no trace. I didn't stop to argue,--I was so glad to see the pots and pans in that cart,--but I pointed out the way, and we returned triumphantly to 18. I can tell you it was a close call. Dulles and Mlle. Herzog met him on their way back, too, and held him up, but he had already left the food with us. It was delicious, in spite of its extra journey. Hors d'oeuvres of pâtés de fois gras; then two big golden-brown turkeys stuffed with marrons; mashed potatoes all yellow with butter, and just the right consistency; peas cooked up with lettuce and sweetened just a little; great plates of delicious currant jelly (we couldn't get cranberry sauce); a big bowl of celery salad; and brown gravy to go on the turkey. It was mighty good, I can tell you.