"I got my eyes from my father."

"Well, he wasn't an old maid, surely?"

"No, he was a captain in the Irish Dragoons."

"There, you see!"

Molly stood up and shook her gown out, preparatory to untying its series
of frontal bows.

"But if you were to marry again--" she began.

Rosina threw up an imploring hand.

"You send cold December chills down my warm June back," she cried
sharply.

Molly flung the dressing-gown upon a chair and proceeded to turn off the
lights.

"I don't want you to think I'm cross," began an apologetic voice in the
dark which descended about them.

"I wasn't thinking of you at all."

"What were you thinking of?"

"Of Dmitri."

Then low laughter rippled from one narrow bed to the other and back
again.

Five minutes later there was a murmur.

"I do wish, Molly, that you'd tell me what you _really_ thought of him."

"I thought he was grand. How could any one think anything else?"

Then through the stillness and darkness there sounded the _frou-frou_ of
ruffles and the sweetness and warmth of a fervent kiss.

Chapter Seven

The next morning they both breakfasted in bed, the ingenuity of Ottillie
having somewhat mitigated the tray difficulty by a clever adjustment of
the wedge-shaped piece of mattress with which Europe elevates its head
at night. Molly was just "winding up" a liberal supply of honey, and
Rosina was salting her egg, when there came a tap at the door of the
salon.

"Ah, Monsieur von Ibn is up early," the Irish girl said in a calm
whisper, thereby frightening her friend to such a degree that she
dropped the salt-spoon into her cup of chocolate. Then they both held
their breath while Ottillie hurried to the door.

It proved to be nothing more unconventional than the maid of Madame la
Princesse, a long-suffering female who bore the name of Claudine.

"What is the matter?" Molly demanded anxiously.

"Oh, mademoiselle, I am sent to say that it must that all go to-day!"

"To-day!" Molly screamed; "I thought that we were to remain until Friday
anyway?"

"And I also thought it. Let mademoiselle but figure to herself how
yesterday I did all unpack in the thought of until Friday; and now
to-day I am bidden inpack once more!"

"Now, did you _ever_?" Molly asked emphatically of Rosina, who shook her
head and looked troubled in good earnest. "Do you really think that she
means it?" she continued, turning to the maid once more; "she sometimes
changes her min