"
When they neared Paris, Adela drew herself up in her corner of the
compartment. "I expect you'll stare some when you get to Paris, Polly
Pepper."
"I've been staring all the time since we started on our journey, Adela,
as hard as I could," said Polly, laughing.
"Well, you'll stare worse than ever now," said Adela, in an important
way. "There isn't anything in all this world that isn't in Paris," she
brought up, not very elegantly.
"I don't like Paris." Tom let the words out before he thought.
"That's just because you are a boy," sniffed Adela. "Oh, Polly, you
ought to see the shops! When Mademoiselle has taken us into some, I
declare I could stay all day in one. Such dreams of clothes and
bonnets! You never saw such bonnets, Polly Pepper, in all your life!"
She lifted her hands, unable to find words enough.
"And the parks and gardens, I suppose, are perfectly lovely," cried
Polly, feeling as if she must get away from the bonnets and clothes.
"Yes, and the Bois de Boulogne to drive in, that's elegant. Only
Mademoiselle won't take us there very often. I wish I was rich, and I'd
have a span of long-tailed, grey horses, and drive up and down there
every day."
Polly laughed. "Well, I should like the tram-ways and the stages," said
Polly.
"Oh, those don't go into the Bois de Boulogne," cried Adela, in a tone
of horror. "Why, Polly Pepper, what are you thinking of?" she
exclaimed.
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