Well, we played bridge and walked and took tea and went driving and had a splendid time. Aunt Ella studies all morning, never takes tea, and goes to bed early, so that I have been a great deal with these other people. Mr. Moody called me "m'dear" and patted my hand, and Mrs. Moody teased me in the most tremendously ladylike way, and we had a splendid time. When my telegram finally came, it seemed very sudden; and they were no end nice about my going. Mrs. Moody said how much she would miss the Donna of the next room. (We had become acquainted by my hearing them gargle and their hearing me laughing over my letters from home, and singing "La Donna e Mobile" to myself.) One day I called Mr. Moody's attention to the fact that I had changed my time of departure. He said, "Quite in keeping, my dear. La Donna e Mobile!" As I was finally going, he, in the sweetest way and the most English English, quoted what Boswell said when he heard of Johnson's death. "The gayety of nations is eclipsed," and said that he hoped to encounter the gayety in Paris. I said that I hated to go, but,--and here, Plagiarism, gentle presence! lit on my brow,--"This Donna likes to be en automobile." It proved to be a wonderful exit speech. Even Teresa said she regretted my going, "On s'amuse bien quand M'lle est là," and when I said, "Hasta luego!" she answered feelingly, "Hasta luego!"--perhaps our most felicitous Spanish conversation. It has been more than I had dreamed, this stay in Pau. The mountains, the country, the aviation, and the people. I tried to repay the kindness that was shown me, and I realize that young people and happy people are scarce now, so that any one of my age and spirits would have had as cordial a reception. Those older folk were lonely and I was different, that's all. C'est la guerre. We are passing through lovely country. It is sunset-time and the shepherd boys are driving home their sheep in an orange haze. The man opposite us looks like the villain in the play--black mustache, derby well over the eyes, black velvet brocaded waistcoat, and gold ball cuff-buttons. I expected him to draw a Smith & Wesson on me a short time ago, but it was three pills (like shoe-buttons) that he had. He gulped them down and is now sleeping innocuously like a baby of two. My writing is only a trifle less awful than the roadbed--Bordeaux! Love. ESTHER. XI FROM ESTHER Paris, March, 1917. DEAREST FATHER:-- I have never told you enough about our trip up from Bordeaux, and so many things happened that were interesting and the effects of the trip have been so lasting that I want very much to put you au courant.