to the trio. Her personality (which is the last word in
well-groomed, high-strung, vivacious American girlhood) contrasted
strikingly with these countrywomen, who had perhaps never been outside
their own forest. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she has the
most extraordinary way of always hitting on the right thing to please
and interest people, without departing from truth or descending to
flattery. All three gazed at her with delight and admiration, the little
beauty of the Landes with deepening colour and wistful eyes. No
Frenchwoman, no Englishwoman, no woman save an American of the best
type, could have exactly that manner, which is indescribable to one who
doesn't know. Strange for a vision like that to flash into these quiet
lives, then flash away, never to be seen again--only remembered.

It was too early for luncheon, but as we had had the shelter of the inn
I wanted to order something for "the good of the house." I accordingly
asked for Bordeaux and biscuits, and the pretty rose of a granddaughter
brought a bottle of--what do you think? Pontet Canet! It was nectar, and
cost--three francs a bottle!

When we drove away Miss Randolph was reflective. I would have liked to
offer a penny for her thoughts, but that sort of indulgence is not in
the sphere of a _chauffeur_. Presently she broke out, however. "Did you
ever see anything so lovely as that girl?" she exclaimed. "She's all
white and gold and rose. Her presence in that sombre place reminds me of
a shaft of warm, golden light breaking through the dark canopy of pines.
She's like a maiden in Hans Christian Andersen. And her name's Angele.
Isn't that perfect? It seems cruel that such a creature, who would make
a sensation in Paris or London or New York, must bloom and ripen and
wither at last, unknown, in that wilderness. Oh, how I should love to
snatch her away?"

"What would you do with her, miss, if you could?" I ventured to ask, at
my humblest--which in Aunt Mary's eyes, is my best. "Would you take her
for your maid?"

"A _maid_?" echoed my Goddess scornfully. "Why, if I meant such a crime
as that, I should expect white bears to come out of these woods and
devour me. No; I would give her pretty dresses, and arrange a good
marriage for her."

"Is that what young girls in America like, miss," I meekly inquired, "to
have marriages arranged for them?"

"No; they hate it, and go away from America to show that they hate
it--sometimes; but this woul