Set in Silver

Set in Silver, by Charles Norris
Williamson

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Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson
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Title: Set in Silver
Author: Charles Norris Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson

Release Date: September 30, 2006 [eBook #19412]
Language: English
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SILVER***
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SET IN SILVER
by
C. N. AND A. M. WILLIAMSON
Illustrated

[Illustration: Audrie]

Garden City New York Doubleday, Page & Company 1913 All rights
reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including
the Scandinavian Copyright, 1909, by Doubleday, Page & Company

TO A GREAT MAN, AND A GREAT MOTORIST
With all admiration we dedicate our story of a tour in the land he loves
"... this little world, This precious stone, set in the silver sea That serves
it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the
envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this
England."

SET IN SILVER
I

AUDRIE BRENDON TO HER MOTHER AT
CHAMPEL-LES-BAINS, SWITZERLAND
Rue Chapeau de Marie Antoinette, Versailles, July 4th
Darling Little French Mother: Things have happened. Fire-crackers!
Roman candles! rockets! But don't be frightened. They're all in my
head. Nevertheless I haven't had such a Fourth of July since I was a
small girl in America, and stood on a tin pail with a whole pack of
fire-crackers popping away underneath.
Isn't it funny, when you have a lot to tell, it's not half as easy to write a
letter as when you've nothing at all to say, and must make up for lack of
matter by weaving phrases? Now, when I'm suffering from a
determination of too many words to my pen, they all run together in a
torrent, and I don't know how to make them dribble singly to a
beginning.
I think I'll talk about other things first. That's the way dear Dad used to
do when he had exciting news, and loved to dangle it over our heads,
"cherry ripe" fashion, harping on the weather or the state of the
stock-market until he had us almost dancing with impatience.
Yes, I'll dwell on other things first--but not irrelevant things, for I'll
dwell on You--with a capital Y, which is the only proper way to spell
You--and You are never irrelevant. You couldn't be, whatever was
happening. And just now you're particularly relevant, though you're far
off in nice, cool Switzerland; for presently, when I come to the Thing,
I'm going to ask your advice.
It's very convenient having a French mother, and I do appreciate dear
Dad's Yankee cleverness in securing you in the family. You say
sometimes that I seem all American, and that you're glad; which is
pretty of you, and loyal to father's country, but I'm not sure whether I
shouldn't have preferred to turn out more like my mamma. You're so
complete, somehow--as Frenchwomen are, at their best. I often think of
you as a kind of pocket combination of Somebody's Hundred Best
Books: Romance, Practical Common Sense, Poetry, Wit, Wisdom,

Fancy Cookery, etc., etc.
Who but a Frenchwoman could combine all these qualities with the
latest thing in hair-dressing and the neatest thing in stays? By the way,
can one's stays be a quality? Yes, if one's French--even half French--I
believe they can.
If I hadn't just got your letter of day before yesterday, assuring me that
you feel strong and fresh--almost as if you'd never been ill--I shouldn't
worry you for advice. Only a few weeks ago, if suddenly called upon
for it, you'd have shown signs of nervous prostration. I shall never
forget my horror when you (quite uncontrollably) threw a spoon at
Philomene who came to ask whether we would have soup à croute or
potage à la bonne femme for dinner!
Switzerland was an inspiration; mine, I flatter myself. And if, in telling
me that you're in robust health again, you're hinting at an intention to
sneak back to blazing Paris before the middle of September, you don't
know your Spartan daughter. All that's American in me rises to shout
"No!" And you needn't think that your child is bored. She may be
boiled, but never bored. Far from it, as you shall hear.