perhaps?"

"It is an almost daily event, the loss of luggage on those Rhine
steamers; so much so, that one is tempted to believe that stealing
luggage is a regular livelihood here."

Just at this moment the Englishwoman in question entered the room, and
in French of a very home manufacture asked the waiter how she could
manage, by means of the telegraph, to reclaim her missing property.

A most involved and intricate game of cross purposes ensued; for
the waiter's knowledge of French was scarcely more extensive, and
embarrassed, besides, by some specialities in accent, so that though
_she_ questioned and _he_ replied, the discussion gave little hope of an
intelligible solution.

"May I venture to offer my services, Madam?" said Calvert, rising and
bowing politely. "If I can be of the least use on this occasion----"

"None whatever, Sir. I am perfectly competent to express my own wishes,
and have no need of an interpreter;" and then turning to the waiter,
added: "Montrez moi le telegraph, garcon."

The semi-tragic air in which she spoke, not to add the strange accent
of her very peculiar French, was almost too much for Calvert's gravity,
while Loyd, half pained by the ridicule thus attached to a countrywoman,
held down his head and never uttered a word. Meanwhile the old lady had
retired with a haughty toss of her towering bonnet, followed by Franz.

"The old party is fierce," said Calvert, as he began his supper, "and
would not have me at any price."

"I suspect that this mistrust of each other is very common with us
English: not so much from any doubt of our integrity, as from a fear
lest we should not be equal in social rank."

"Well; but really, don't you think that our externals might have
satisfied that old lady she had nothing to apprehend on that score?"

"I can't say how she may have regarded that point," was the cautious
answer.

Calvert pushed his glass impatiently from him, and said, petulantly,
"The woman is evidently a governess, or a companion, or a housekeeper.
She writes her name in the book Miss Grainger, and the others are called
Walter. Now, after all, a Miss Grainger might, without derogating too
far, condescend to know a Fusilier, eh? Oh, here she comes again."

The lady thus criticised had now re-entered the room, and was busily
engaged in studying the announcement of steamboat departures and
arrivals, over the chimney.

"It is too absurd," said she, pettishly, in French, "to close