not spoken English and that French had been the court language. I
visited a bookstore and purchased what was recommended as an easy road
to French, and spent all morning learning to say, "l'orange est un
fruit." I read the instructions for placing the tongue and puckering
the lips and repeated les and las until I was dizzy. Then I looked
through our bookcases for a life of Benjamin Franklin. I knew he had
gone to court and "played with queens."

But the great statesman-author-orator gave me no guide to correct form
or English social customs. Instead I grew so interested in the history
of his work in England and France and in his inspiring achievement in
obtaining recognition and credit for the United States that dinner time
arrived before I realized I had not discovered what language was spoken
at court, nor what one talked about, nor if one talked at all.

Tom roared when I made my confession. With his boyish good humor he
promised to answer all my questions on board ship.

So, without a care in those delicious days that followed, I wandered
down Sixth Avenue to New York's then most correct shops, buying clothes
and clothes and clothes. I bought practical and impractical gifts for
the twins back in Wisconsin and for all the family and those good
friends who had helped me through Madison.

The week before we sailed my husband said, out of a clear sky: "Be sure
you have the right clothes, Mary. The English are a conservative lot."
Suddenly I was conscious again that I did not know the essential things
the wife of a diplomat ought to know--what to wear and when, a million
and one tremendous social trifles.