almost any indiscretion or violence. I for one would never consent
to be the wife and children of a powdered footman, and receive him
in his moments of reaction.



Chapter III. Eggs a la coque.



Is it to my credit, or to my eternal dishonour that I once made a
powdered footman smile, and that, too, when he was handing a
buttered muffin to an earl's daughter?

It was while we were paying a visit at Marjorimallow Hall, Sir Owen
and Lady Marjorimallow's place in Surrey. This was to be our first
appearance in an English country house, and we made elaborate
preparations. Only our freshest toilettes were packed, and these
were arranged in our trunks with the sole view of impressing the
lady's-maid who should unpack them. We each purchased dressing-
cases and new fittings, Francesca's being of sterling silver,
Salemina's of triple plate, and mine of celluloid, as befitted our
several fortunes. Salemina read up on English politics; Francesca
practised a new way of dressing her hair; and I made up a portfolio
of sketches. We counted, therefore, on representing American
letters, beauty, and art to that portion of the great English public
staying at Marjorimallow Hall. (I must interject a parenthesis here
to the effect that matters did not move precisely as we expected;
for at table, where most of our time was passed, Francesca had for a
neighbour a scientist, who asked her plump whether the religion of