"At last we reached the hotel--a great, grand house, that frightens one by its size; it must cover acres and acres; you could not count the number of lights, and crowds of people going up and down the stairs. "They took me into a room half-way up to the sky, and there I sat down with my head aching and clear tired out. You didn't know, I suppose, that I have learned a good many French words from the mistress: such as _du pain_, which means bread; and _le the_, for tea; and _sucre_, which a'n't much different from our sugar, only you mumble it up in your mouth before speaking, and let it all out at once. "Well, I was dying with thirst, and my head throbbed terribly. The man called me _madmoiselle_, and looked polite and sorry; so I said: "'_Donna moia_ a cup of _the_, if you please, _mousheu_.' "He looked bewildered a minute, and then brightened up so pleasant: "'_Ah! le the! We, we!_' "'No,' said I, thinking how improper it would be for that strange man to sit down to tea with a young girl in her room that time of night; 'only for myself; one cup will do. Excuse me.' "He did not stop to hear, but went off and came back with a china cup and saucer on a little silver tray, as if I had been a born lady. I stirred up the tea and tasted it. "'_Donna moia un petite_ more _sucre_, if _vous_ please,' said I. "'_We, madmoiselle, toot sweet,_' says he. "The fellow pronounced 'too' as if it had a _t_ in it; but then, how could he understand good English? "'No, no--not too sweet' said I; 'the contrary way. I want more _la sucre_, sugar, you know.' "The fellow really did not understand his own language, but stood there looking wild as a fish-hawk. All at once he brightened up and ran out of the room. Directly he came back with another man. The moment I saw his face I jumped up, ready to scream with joy, and--and--yes, Miss Hyde, don't blush! but I sprang right into his arms and gave him a kiss. "Who was it? Why, James, Mr. Lee's own man--a person--well, Miss Hyde, we all have secrets; but if ever a girl had a right to kiss a friend in a strange place, I had--that's all. "'Oh! James, James Grant! It's Providence that sent you here!' "'No,' he said, holding me tight and stopping my mouth while choke-full of words, 'I rather think it was your bad French, Lottie.' "I would have struck him; only he held me so near and so tight it was impossible. "The waiter went out softly. What sensible people these Frenchmen are! Then I forgot my headache and everything but the business in hand. James is a good scholar, you know, and understands French like a book. If ever Providence sent a friend at the right time, He did it that night. First I began asking questions.