more than half empty, and the elder of the two elderly maids had a
shining pink knob on her nose.

I hadn't yet taken off my diving-bell (as I've named my head covering),
and every eye was upon me during the intricate process of removal.
Conversation, which was in French, slackened in the interests of
curiosity; and when the new face was exposed to public gaze the three
gallant chauffeurs jumped up, as one man, each with the kind intention
of placing me in a chair next himself. "_Voilà une petite tête trop
jolie pour être cachée comme ça!_" exclaimed the best looking and
boldest of the trio.

The ladies of the party sniffed audibly, and raised their somewhat
moth-eaten eyebrows at each other in virtuous disapproval of a young
female who provoked such remarks from strangers. The valet, who had the
air of being engaged to the maid with the nose, confined himself to a
non-committal grin, but the second and third chauffeurs loyally
supported their leader. "_Vous avez raison_," they responded, laughing
and showing quantities of white teeth. Then they followed up their
compliment by begging that mademoiselle would sit down, and allow her
health to be drunk--with that of the other ladies.

"Yes, sit down by me," said Number One, indicating a chair. "This is the
Queen's throne."

"By me," said Number Two. "I'll cut up your meat for you."

"By me," said Number Three. "I'll give you my share of pudding."

By this time I was red to the ears, not knowing whether it were wiser