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nded Amanda. Lavinia spoke not, but shook her little sister till the hat flew off her head, and she had only breath enough left to declare with unquenched ardour that she would do it again the very next chance she got. Lectures, laughter, and longings for 'my Comte' beguiled the remainder of the way, and _Moulang_ (as Mat pronounced Moulins) was reached after a pleasant trip through a green country, picturesque with the white cattle of Berri. There was not much to see, but the town was so quaint and quiet, that Amanda was seized with one of her remarkable projects. 'Let us find a little house somewhere and stay a week or two. I fain would rest and ruminate among the white cows for a while; have a little washing done, and slowly prepare to emerge into the world again. Lyons is our next point, and there we must bid adieu to freedom and shawl-straps.' 'Very well, dear,' responded Lavinia, with resignation, having learned that the best way to curb these aberrations of genius was to give in, and let circumstances prove their impracticability. So Amanda inquired of the landlady if such a rustic cot could be found. Whereupon the dingy little woman clasped her dingy little hands, and declared that she had exactly the charming retreat desired. Truly yes, and she would at once make her toilette, order out the carriage, and display this lovely villa to the dear ladies. With many misgivings the three squeezed themselves into a square clothes-basket on wheels, drawn by an immense, bony, white horse, driven by a striped boy, and adorned by Madame, in a towering bonnet, laden with amazing fruit, flowers, and vegetables. Lavinia counted three tomatoes, a bunch of grapes, poppies and pansies, wheat ears and blackberry-vines, a red, red rose, and one small lettuce, with glass dewdrops and green grubs lavishly sprinkled over it. A truly superb _chapeau_ and a memorable one. Away they trundled through stony streets, dusty roads, waste grounds, marshy meadows, and tumbled-down pleasure-gardens, till the clothes-basket turned down a lane, and the bony horse stopped at length before a door in a high red wall. 'Behold!' cried madame, leading them with much clanking of keys, into a cabbage-garden. A small tool-house stood among the garden-stuff, with brick floors, very dirty windows, and the atmosphere of a tomb. Bags of seed, wheel-barrows, onions, and dust cumbered the ground. Empty bottles stood on the old table, cigar ends
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