Everything
was ready for use, but guests and waiters were lacking.
"Let's go into the main dining-room," said John, who had opened another
door. "It's a fine, big place and the windows look directly over the
river. Doubtless we'd have a good view from here if it were not for the
driving snow."
It was, in fact, a handsome long room, proving the truth of John's
surmise that many guests came at times to Chastel, and, to their great
surprise, they found several of the tables fully dressed, as if some of
the people had just been sitting down to dinner, when the voice of the
shells bade them go.
"You see it's waiting for us," said John. "Why, we'd have done its
proprietor a wrong if we'd missed the Hotel de l'Europe. The table is
set and, hospitable Frenchman that he is, he'll be glad to know that
somebody is enjoying his house in his absence. The pepper, the salt and
the vinegar are there, and I actually see a small bottle of wine on one
of the tables."
"Poor man!" said Julie. "It must have cost him much to go. You don't
know, Mr. John, how we French love our homes and houses."
"Oh, yes, I do, and we in America, since there's no longer any Wild West
in which we can seek romance and change, are settling down into the same
habits."
"Would Mademoiselle and Mr. Scott wish us to serve their dinner here?"
asked Antoine gravely, the duties of his position ever uppermost in his
mind.
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