it's a kind of coaching place, only kept by women. Mamma had heard it
was very nice; so she wrote to me that I was to come and stop here with
Harold. The Desmonds brought me and made the arrangement, or the
bargain, or whatever you call it. Poor Harold was naturally not at all
pleased; but he has been very kind, and has treated me like an angel. He
is getting on beautifully with his French; for though I don't think the
place is so good as papa supposed, yet Harold is so immensely clever that
he can scarcely help learning. I am afraid I learn much less, but,
fortunately, I have not to pass an examination--except if mamma takes it
into her head to examine me. But she will have so much to think of with
Georgina that I hope this won't occur to her. If it does, I shall be, as
Harold says, in a dreadful funk.

This is not such a nice place for a girl as for a young man, and the
Desmonds thought it _exceedingly odd_ that mamma should wish me to come
here. As Mrs. Desmond said, it is because she is so very unconventional.
But you know Paris is so very amusing, and if only Harold remains good-
natured about it, I shall be content to wait for the caravan (that's what
he calls mamma and the children). The person who keeps the
establishment, or whatever they call it, is rather odd, and _exceedingly
foreign_; but she is wonderfully civil, and is perpetually sending to my
door to see if I want anything. The servants are not at all like English
servants, and come bursting in, the footman (they have only one) and the
maids alike, at all sorts of hours, in the _most sudden way_. Then when
one rings, it is half an hour before they come. All this is very
uncomfortable, and I daresay it will be worse at Hyeres. There, however,
fortunately, we shall have our own people.

There are some very odd Americans here, who keep throwing Harold into
fits of laughter. One is a dreadful little man who is always sitting