"Miss," I dictated in a whisper, "Miss Nellie Mary Million and maid." "'Ow, Miss, don't you write your name?" breathed Million gustily. "Miss----" I trod on her foot. I saw several American visitors staring at us. The man said: "Your rooms are forty-five, forty-six, and forty-seven, Miss." "Forty-five. Ow! Same number as at home," murmured Million. "Will you please tell me how we get?" It was one of the chocolate-liveried page-boys who showed us to our rooms--the two large, luxuriously furnished bedrooms and the sitting-room that seemed so extraordinarily palatial to eyes still accustomed to the proportions of No. 45 Laburnum Grove. What a change! What other extraordinary changes and contrasts lie before us, I wonder? We were closely followed by the newly bought trunks; one filled with ancient baggage, like a large and beautiful nut showing a shrivelled kernel; the others an empty magnificence. Million and I gazed upon them as they stood among the white-painted hotel furniture, filling the big room with the fragrance of costly leather. Million said: "Well! I shall never get enough things to fill all them, I don't s'pose." "Won't you!" I said. "We go shopping again this very afternoon; shopping clothes! And the question is whether we've got enough boxes to hold them!" "Miss!" breathed Million. I turned from the tray, full of attractively arranged little boxes and shelves, of the dress-basket. Quite sharply I said: "How often am I to tell you not to call me that?" "Very sorry, Miss Beatrice. I mean--S--Smith!" faltered Million. Her pretty grey eyes were full of tears. Her small, bonnie face looked suddenly pinched and pale. She sat down with a dump on the edge of the big brass bedstead. Very forlorn, she looked, the little heiress. "Sorry I was cross," I said penitently, patting my employer's hand. "It's not that, Miss," said Million, relapsing again, "it's only--oh, haven't you got a sinkin'? I feel fair famished, I do; indeed, what with all the going about, and----" "I'm awfully hungry, too," I admitted. "We'll go down to the dining-room at once. Come along. You go first. You are to!" "Not to the dining-room here," objected Million, terrified. "Not in this grand place, with all these people. Oh, Miss, did you notice that young gentleman, him with the red rose, and all the ladies in their lovely dresses? I'd far rather just nip out and get a portion of steak-and-kidney pie and a nice cupper tea at an A.B.C. There is bound to be one close by here----" "Well, we aren't going to it," I decreed firmly. "Ladies with private incomes of a hundred and fifty pounds a week don't lunch at marble-topped tables. Anyhow, their maids won't. But if you don't want to have luncheon here the first day, perhaps----"