sion of the sex between
Pierre and me from a careless memory and the writing of my hand, which
is of a great boldness, but not to be easily read," I explained as I
read the letter aloud to Pierre and Nannette.

It took me just one hour by the clock, sitting there on the pile of
steamer wraps with the small Pierre in the hollow of my arm, to
explain and translate the sense of that letter to old Nannette, and I
feel sure she would have been sitting upon that spot yet immovable
rather than let me depart from her if I had not put all of my time and
force upon the picturing to her of a Pierre who could come down with
her later to me in a condition to run through the gardens of Twin
Oaks, which was the home of his American ancestors. With that vision
constantly before her she let the porter and me insert her into a
taxicab and extract her at the door of the small private hospital of
the good Dr. Burns who was to perform the miracle for the back and hip
of small and radiant Pierre.

"But what is it that I do to permit the _jeune fille_ of my
beloved mistress to depart into this city of wicked savages not
attended by me? I cannot. Do not demand it!" were the words with which
I left her arguing with that very sympathetic and sensible doctor of
America. He had not noticed a confusion of sex was between Pierre and
me and he had sent out the check of my wicked Uncle and procured the
American money for me. Also he had given me a few directions that he
appeared to think of a great sufficiency and had ordered a taxi to be
in readiness for me.

"Nonsense, Nurse," he said to Nannette bruskly but not with unkindness
when I had translated to him Nannette's weeping protests. "A great
strapping girl like that can get down to the Harpeth Valley all right
by herself. Nobody's going to eat her up, and from the size of the
biceps I detect under that chiffon I think she could give a good
account of herself if anybody tried. How like you are to what Henry
was at your age, child, God bless you! I'd go to the station with you
but I've a patient all prepared for an operation. Shall I send a nurse
with you?"

"No, please, good Doctor, and good-bye," I said, with a great haste as
I hurriedly embraced both Nannette and the small Pierre and departed
down the broad steps into the taxi with the open door.

"Pennsylvania Station! Your train may not leave for hours, but you can
get your baggage together. Good-bye," said that good Doctor as he shut
th