little mamma, who did not think to see again her bad
son! Yes, I am greatly glad that I make the fine surprise for you as you
come all weary to this place of noise. Give to me the billets, for I am
still mademoiselle's servant and go to find the coffers.'

He got my trunks, put me into a carriage, and as we rolled merrily away
I asked how he chanced to meet me so unexpectedly. Knowing where I
intended to stay, he had called occasionally till I notified Madame D.
of the day and hour of my arrival, and then he had come to 'make the
fine surprise.' He enjoyed the joke like a true boy, and I was glad to
see how well he looked, and how gay he seemed.

'You are better?' I said.

'I truly hope so. The winter was good to me and I cough less. It is a
small hope, but I do not enlarge my fear by a sad face. I yet work and
save a little purse, so that I may not be a heaviness to those who have
the charity to finish me if I fall back and yet die.'

I would not hear of that, and told him he looked as well and happy as if
he had found a fortune.

He laughed, and answered with his fine bow, 'I have. Behold, you come
to make the fete for me. I find also here my friends Joseph and
Napoleon. Poor as mouses of the church, as you say, but brave boys, and
we work together with much gaiety.'

When I asked if he had leisure to be my guide about Paris, for my time
was short and I wanted to see _everything_; he pranced, and told me he
had promised himself a holiday, and had planned many excursions the most
wonderful, charming, and gay. Then, having settled me at Madame's, he
went blithely away to what I afterwards discovered were very poor
lodgings, across the river.

Next day began the pleasantest fortnight in all my year of travel.
Laddie appeared early, elegant to behold, in a new hat and buff gloves,
and was immensely amused because the servant informed me that my big son
had arrived.

I believe the first thing a woman does in Paris is to buy a new bonnet.
I did, or rather stood by and let 'my son' do it in the best of French,
only whispering when he proposed gorgeous _chapeaus_ full of flowers and
feathers, that I could not afford it.

'Ah! we must make our economies, must we? See, then, this modest,
pearl-colored one, with the crape rose. Yes, we will have that, and be
most elegant for the Sunday promenade.'

I fear I should have bought a pea-green hat with a yellow plume if he
had urged it, so wheedlesome and droll were his w