As we passed the kitchen windows a voice hailed me and there was Mme. Beau, my friend and protégée, with a dishtowel clutched in one hand, and five francs extended in the other. The poor thing owed it to me, she said. I had utterly forgotten it; part of some money I had lent her when her baby died. Mrs. Shurtleff thought it was better to have her pay part of it back. Well, there was supply--what cared I for the Metro? We looked for a taxi, but there was none to be had. So I contented myself with buying three tickets as pompously as possible. On Monday, hard work moving furniture and taking packages with two amusing Ambulance boys, just landed, to help me. One from Montana, the best-looking thing you could hope to see, was equally entertaining on the subject of the "Harvard Sisters" who had come over on the boat with him, and of his Paris experiences. From tea-time on, I was all ears to hear Marje drive up. Finally she came. About 8.30 it was. Such a lot as she had to tell. Perhaps I shall have something first hand for you some day, but certainly what she said was worth talking about. The party was made up of two carloads; among them, Mr. and Mrs. Will Irwin, and Mrs. Norman Hapgood. Now I could never drive a car over such roads or take care of the engine or tires if there should be any trouble (Marje had three punctures), so my idea is to go as a journalist and take the same route as this party did. Do you think, Father, you could get me a chance? Think over your newspaper acquaintance. Devotedly, ESTHER. XX FROM MARJORIE 12 Place Denfert-Rochereau, July 4, 1917. DEAREST MOTHER AND DADDY:-- It is eleven o'clock in the morning, and by all rights I should be working in the Vestiaire, but here I am at home writing you. I'll tell you why. First place, it is the 4th of July, and I am away from home for the first time; second place, it is Wednesday, and I want to get this letter off today, so that you will surely get it.