ted me at London railway termini, although suggestive
of material comfort, cannot be said to invest my arrival with a special
atmosphere of charm. Carlotta's welcome has been a new sensation. I look
upon the house with different eyes. It was a pleasure, as I dressed for
dinner, to reflect that I should not go down to a solemn, solitary meal,
but would have my beautiful little witch to keep me company.

July 22d.

It appears that her conduct has not been by any means irreproachable.
Miss Griggs reported that she took advantage of my absence to saturate
herself with scent, one of the most heinous crimes in our domestic
calendar. _Mulier bene olet dum nihil olet_ is the maxim written above
this article of our code. Once when she disobeyed my orders and came
into the drawing-room reeking of ylang-ylang, I sent her upstairs
to change all her things and have a bath, and not come near me till
Antoinette vouched for her scentlessness. And "Ah, monsieur," I remember
Antoinette replied, "that would be impossible, for the sweet lamb smells
of spring flowers, _de son naturel_." Which is true. Her use of violent
perfumes is thus a double offence. "There is something more serious,"
said Miss Griggs.

"I can hardly believe there can be anything more serious than making
one's self detestable to one's fellow-creatures," said I.

"Unless it is making one's self too agreeable," said Miss Griggs,
pointedly.

I asked her what she meant.

"I have discovered," she replied, "that Carlotta has been carrying on a
clandestine flirtation with the young man who calls for orders from the
grocer's."

"I am glad it wasn't the butcher's boy," I murmured.

Miss Griggs giggled in a silly way, as if I were jesting. At my stern
request she recovered and unfolded the horrible tale. She had caught
Carlotta kissing her hand to him. She had also seen him smuggle a
three-cornered note between Carlotta's fingers, and Carlotta had
definitely refused to surrender the billet-dour.

"What is the modern course of treatment," I asked, "prescribed for young
ladies who flirt with grocers' assistants? In Renaissance times
she could be whipped. The wise Margaret of Navarre used to beat her
daughter, Jeanne d'Albrecht, soundly for far less culpable lapses from
duty. Or she could be sent to a convent and put into a cell with rats,
or she could be bidden to attend at a merry-making where the chief
attraction was roast grocer's assistant. But nowadays--what do yo