rillettes and other things which would have made your mouth water (though if it did, and I were by, I'd shut my eyes), and the head waiter told me when I asked, that they were specialties of Tours and of the hotel. I think he must be a specialty of Tours and the hotel too. He has the softest, most engaging, yet dignified manner; and the way he has of setting down a dish before you seems to season it and give you a double appetite. There's another man in the hotel, too, who adds to the "aroma"; he's like a "bush to wine," or something I've heard you say. By day he's valet de chambre, in a scarlet waistcoat no brighter than his cheeks and eyes; at dinner he's a waiter in correct "dress" clothes, and then he goes back to valeting again till midnight. He would put me in a good temper if I had started out to murder someone, and when he brought us the wine list, waiting with a cherry-cheeked smile to see what we would choose, nothing seemed worthy of him except champagne; but champagne looked so dissipated for two lone females. However, I had decided to have some, to drink the health of the new car, and perhaps—a little—to shock Aunt Mary, when the diamond-eyed one respectfully inquired, in nice Southern French, how we would like to try a "little wine of the country, sparkling Vouvray; quite a ladies' wine." So we compromised with Vouvray. It was too ridiculously cheap, but it had a delicious flavour, and Aunt Mary and I, being merely females, agreed that it was more delicate than any champagne we had ever tasted. We drank your health and the car's, and then I had a sudden inspi-
