"Out of the other window, I hope," said I.

"Yes, one out of each window," she replied promptly. "Father had
hard work, I can tell you. We hadn't half finished; there were ever
so many places we wanted to go to."

"Your father insisted on coming away?"

"Yes; after we had been there about a month he said he had enough.
He's fearfully restless; he's very much out of health. Mother and I
said to him that if he was restless in Paris he needn't hope for
peace anywhere. We don't mean to leave him alone till he takes us
back." There was an air of keen resolution in Miss Ruck's pretty
face, of lucid apprehension of desirable ends, which made me, as she
pronounced these words, direct a glance of covert compassion toward
her poor recalcitrant father. He had walked away a little with his
wife, and I saw only his back and his stooping, patient-looking
shoulders, whose air of acute resignation was thrown into relief by
the voluminous tranquillity of Mrs. Ruck. "He will have to take us
back in September, any way," the young girl pursued; "he will have to
take us back to get some things we have ordered."

"Have you ordered a great many things?" I asked jocosely.

"Well, I guess we have ordered SOME. Of course we wanted to take
advantage of being in Paris--ladies always do. We have left the
principal things till we go back. Of course that is the principal
interest, for ladies. Mother said she should feel so shabby if she
just passed through. We have promised all the people to be back in