"On the contrary," I hastened to reply, seeing that the Professor was much disturbed at this unexpected result of all our eloquence, "Flanders has a lot of things to interest the ladies. Think of its famous laces and lacemakers--we can still find the latter at work in places like Bruges, Malines and Turnhout--of its rare old tapestries from Audenaerde and Tournai, and the fine linens of Courtrai. Then there are wood carvings the like of which you will travel far to see, and old Flemish furniture everywhere." "To say nothing of the pleasure of learning a little more about the great Flemish school of art in the very home towns of its most celebrated artists," added the Professor, who was much elated to see that the frowns were leaving the fair face of his better half. "That's much better," she announced. "I've always thought fine hand-made lace the most wonderful product of feminine patience and skill, and I should certainly love to watch them make it." "For my part," remarked the fourth member of the party, who had been strangely silent during all this discussion, "while I like to learn a little about the history of the old towns I visit, and see the fine things--whether paintings, or town-halls, or lace or tapestry--for which they are famous, what I like the best is to study the people themselves. I mean the live ones, not those who are dead and gone that our husbands are talking about. I love to sit on the sidewalk on pleasant evenings and have dinner and black coffee while watching the people of the town go by. It's better than a play. And on rainy days there is always some quaint old-fashioned inn or café where the whole scene looks like a painting by Jordaens or Teniers. The beamed ceiling and the pictures on the walls are grimy with the smoke and steam of countless dinners, the buxom landlady sits in state behind an array of bottles of all sizes and colours and labelled at all prices, her equally plump daughters wait on the tables, the very guests--including ourselves--form a part of the picture. Why, it makes me want to be back there again, just to think of it!" "The Madame is right!" exclaimed the Professor heartily--all of our friends call my wife "the Madame" because she speaks French as fluently as English. "Our first object on this trip will be pleasure. A little knowledge of the history of Flanders, of tapestry and lacemaking, of architecture and art, may enhance our enjoyment of what we see, because we will thereby understand it better and appreciate its interest or beauty more keenly. But we are not going over as historical savants, or as authorities on art--or pretend that we know any more about such subjects than we really do--" "Which is just enough to enable us to derive sincere pleasure from seeing them, and having them explained to us, without troubling our heads about this, that or the other element of technique," I interrupted, completing the Professor's sentence for him.