Page:C N and A M Williamson - The Lightning Conductor.djvu/121

 and turning to the left at the end, we pulled up at the door of a hotel. Just an ordinary-looking hotel it was on the outside, and I little thought what my impressions of it would be by-and-by.

I was tired, not so much physically from what we had done, but with the feeling that my capacity for admiring and enjoying things had been filled up and brimmed over, so that a drop more in would actually hurt. Do you know that sensation? It was just the mood to appreciate warmth and cosiness. We got both. Aunt Mary and I had two bedrooms opening off a sitting-room; dear, old-fashioned rooms, and, above all, French old-fashioned, which to me is fascinating. We made ourselves as pretty as Nature ordained us severally to be, and went downstairs. The dining-room was our first big surprise. It was almost worthy of one of the châteaux, with its dignified tapestried and wainscotted walls, and its big, branching candelabra. I'm sure if we'd been dining at a château we shouldn't have got a better dinner. I don't think anything ever tasted so good to me in my life, and I couldn't help wondering how poor, tired Brown was faring while we lazy ones feasted in state in the salle à manger. I thought of you, too, for you would have loved the things to eat. They were rich and Southern, and tasted in one's mouth just the way the word "Provence" sounds in one's ear. Aunt Mary had read in one of her ubiquitous guide-books that Touraine as well as Provence is famous for its "succulent cooking," and for once a guide-book seems to be right. They had all sorts of tricky, rich little dishes for