scarcely as discreet, I should say. On our way to our attic that night,
the little corridors made us a really amazing number of confidences.

It was strange, but all the shoes appeared to have come in pairs of
twos. Never was there such a collection of boots in couples. Strange
it was, also, to see how many little secrets these rows of candid
shoe-leather disclosed. Here a pert, coquettish pair of ties were
having as little in common as possible with the stout, somewhat clumsy
walking-boots next them. In the two just beyond, at the next door, how
the delicate, slender buttoned kids leaned over, floppingly, to rest on
the coarse, yet strong, hobnailed clumpers!

Shabbier and shabbier grew the shoes, as we climbed upward. With each
pair of stairs we seemed to have left a rung in the ladder of fortune
behind. But even the very poorest in pocket had brought his little
extravagance with him to the races.

The only genuine family party had taken refuge, like ourselves, in the
attic.

At the very next door to our own, Monsieur, Madame, et Bebe proclaimed,
by the casting of their dusty shoes, that they also, like the rest of
the world, had come to Caen to see the horses run.




CHAPTER XXIV.

A DAY AT BAYEUX AND ST. LO.