"Well, when I'm old I'll marry a philosopher," Mary had announced, for it sounded a pleasant word to say and a pleasant thing to be, and Uncle William had founded schools. Mary thought about Pa Many D's now in the hot dusty railway carriage, and tried to remember what school he founded. But she could only think of "asthmatic" and "rheumatic," neither of which sounded right. Mary printed S-K-O-O-L on the window with a wet finger, shuddered, and looking round perceived that the bluebottle had escaped. At that moment the train puffed into Dijon station, where Grandmamma waking up decided it was time to have lunch. Mary enjoyed that while it lasted. But after lunch Grandmamma went more fast asleep than ever; the carriage grew hotter and hotter; the country grew greener and greener, and the sky more blue. "Pouff!" Mary sighed. "Pouff-ff-ff!" The train reached Macon, when Mary was in the middle of speculating how many times she had said pouff since Dijon. "I must have said a thrillion pouffs," she decided, and wished that Grandmamma would wake up and be conversational, so that she might display her acquaintance with that numeral. Or perhaps she had better reserve it for Mademoiselle Lucinge. How could she bring it in? Mary began to compose the interview with her mistress. "How do you do, my little girl?" "I am very well, thank you, Mademoiselle." "Did you have a comfortable journey?" "Yes, thank you, Mademoiselle. My grandmamma and I passed a very pleasant day in the train. What a long way off you live! About a thrillion miles, I suppose." Mary decided that this sounded a little too far when it was put into speech. Perhaps on consideration she had better be content with impressing Grandmamma.