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THAT NICE MISS JAY PENNE

AN AMERICAN GIRL
IN LONDON

SARA JEANNETTE DUNCAN

AUTHOR OF " A SOCIAL DEPARTURE"

WITH EIGHTY
ILLUSTRATIONS

BY
F. H. TOWNSEND

NEW YORK

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1891

*: »*f ««.«»«

PREFACE

FOR THE OTHER AMERICANS.

I HAVE written this account onlj secondarily and at tlie
instigation of publishers, for Americans. Primarily, I wrote
it for the English people. I composed it in their country ;
it was suggested by their institutions, and it is addressed to
them. You will see, if you read it, that I had reasons for
doing this. The reasons are in the first chapter, at the very
beginning. As you have not far to look for them, therefore,
and as it is quite unnecessary to print a thing twice in the
same book, I will not go over them again. The object of this
preface is chiefly to draw your attention to the fact that I
am not talking to you, dear compatriot, so that you will un-
derstand that there is no personal ground for any annoyance
you may feel at what I say.

Notwithstanding this, one of the Miss Wastgoggles, of
Boston, has already taken the trouble to send me a rather
severely reproachful letter about my impressions and experi-
ences, in which she says that she would have written hers, if
it had ever occurred to her to do so, very differently. I
have no doubt that this is true. She also begs me to remem-
ber that there are a great many different kinds of girls in
America, numbers of whom are brought up " quite as they

483503

vi AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON,

are in England." It is this remark of liers that makes me
quote Miss Wastgoggles. I wisli to say in connection witli it
that, while it is unreasonable to apologize for being only one
kind of American girl, I do not pretend to represent the ideas
of any more.

Mamie Wick.

No. 4000 Prairie Avenue, Chicago, Illinois,
liovember 20, 1890.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

' " THAT NICE MISS JAY PENNB '" ... . . Frontispiece

INITIAL • I ' . . . . . , . .1

• THAT IS HOW HE MADE HIS FORTUNE ' . . . . . . 3

' I THINK HE WILL RUN ' , . . . . . .4

' SUE WAS TEACHING SCHOOL IN CHICAGO WHEN POl'PA MET HER ' . . 5

' I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN WE EVER HAD

DONE BEFORE ' . . . . . . . .8

' WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT ' . 18

' WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB ' . 20

•"THOSE DISGUSTING AMERICAN GIRLS " ' ... .24

i WHERE SMALL BOYS GO ROUND ON ONE ROLLER SKATE ' . . .80

• FROM THE OUTSIDE I DIDN't THINK MUCH OF MRS. PORTHERIS'S HOUSE ' . 34
' THEY SAT UP VERY NICELY INDEED ' . . . . .37
' THE OLD LADY GATHERED HERSELF UP AND LOOKED AT ME ' . . . 39
' IT WAS MISS PURKISS'S ADDRESS ' . . . . , .45
'SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OK MY TRUNKS ' . . , . 46
' I WAITED FOR THE LADY OF THE HOUSE A CONSCIOUS HYPOCRITE ' . 56
' '* WE SENT TWO " ' . . . . , . . . 66

• " I CAN DROP YOU ANYWHERE YOU LIKE " ' . . , .69
' ONE OF THE LADIES WAS SITTING BOLT UPRIGHT, WITH A STERN, MAJESTIC

eye' . . . . . . . . . 73

• " THEN I LEAVE YOU, MISS WICK," SHE SAID, " TO THIS LADY — AND TO

PROVIDENCE " ' . . . . . . . .77

Vlll

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

*"B1AKE him stop WAOGLING," I CALLED TO THE DRIVBB '
"'YOU HAVE THE TOB-BEGANINO — THAT MUST BE NICE"' .
'SOMEBODY HE CALLED ** DEAB-R-R HKAR-B-H-t\^^ ''

• " I WILL NOT HAVE YOU IN STRIPES," I HEARD HIM SAY ' .

• UPSET A CHILD WITH A TOPHEAVY BONNET ' .

' " PLEASE HOLD MY PARASOL, MR. MAFFERTON, THAT I MAY GET THE EXACT
TRUTH FOR MY PENNY " ' . . . . .

' " WHAT DO YOU THINK OP THE UNDERGROUND ? " '

INITIAL ........

• " SO THIS IS WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR ! " ' .
'LORD MAFFERTON' . . . . .
' DISARRANGED MY FEATURES FOR LIFE ' .

'THE WHOLE PLACE SPOKE OF ITS CIIKAPNERS '

' THAT GENTLEMAN IN THE CORNER IS A FEATURE OF YOUR 0MM15US SYSTK5I
I think' ........

' THE YOUNG WOMAN CRAWLED AWAY WITH THE NEGLIGENCE THAT BECAME
THE DEABEST PLACE ' . . . . . ,

• A PERSON OP GREAT DIGNITY, IN HIGH, BLACK SLEEVES '
INITIAL ........

' " YOU WICKED WOMAN " *

•"REMEMBER, YOUNG LADY, THREE-THIRTY Slutrp"^ ,

INITLLL • W ' .

• WE LOOKED AT SHAKESPEARE, SUPRKIME A^rOXG THKM '

« " life's a jest, and ALL THINGS SHOW IX ; I THOUGHT SO ONCK, AND NOW
I KNOW IT " '

INITIAL ' I ' .

• OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS GLORY IN IT ' . . ,
INITIAL * L ' .

DANCING LIKE A DISJOINTED FOOT-RULE ' . . . .

•"REVERSE?" HE SAID; "l DON'T THINK I EVER HEARD OF 11 " ' .

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ix

PAGR

' I OSTENSIBLY LOOKED AT THE LANDSCAPE ' , • • • • 182

' THEY WERE ALL DIFFERENT FROM ANY AMERICAN GENTLEMEN ' . . 183

• ODDIE PRATTIE ' . . . . . . . . . 189

' WE DROVE STRAIGHT OUT OF TOWN TO THE PARADE-GROUND ' . . 194

^WITH THEIR GAY LITTLE PENNONS FLYING' . . , . . 197

' WITH AN AIR OF INQUIRY ' . . . . . . . 203

' IT BEGAN TO BE LIKE THE DIALOGUES IN THE OLD-FASHIONED READING -

BOOKS ' . . . . . « . . . 207

• I WAS TAKEN BY SURPRISE ' . . . . . . . 209

INITIAL • L ' . , , . . . . . . 211

• LADY BANDOBUST ' . . . . . , . . 212

' SHE WAS THE MOST UNINTERESTED PERSON I HAVE HAD THE PLEASURE OF

TALKING TO IN ENGLAND ' . . . • . . . 214

'MR. BANGLEY COFFIN' ....... 224

•always, AS IF IN IRONY, BY A MAN WHO SOLI) GINGKRRREAD ' . . . 232

• AN ACTRESS ON THE LYRIC DRAG GAVE US A VERY FRANK AND FULL-FLAVOURED

CRITICISM OP OUR DRESSES ' . • t • • • 233

• I FELT AS IF I WERE IN CHURCH ' . . * . ■ . 240
INITIAL 'l'. . , . . , . • . 243
' THE RESPECTABLE SCOUT . , « • * . . 246

• A GENUINE BISHOP ' . . , . , . . . 263
INITIAL ' T ' . . ■ , , , • . . . 255
INITIAL • M ' . . . . . . , , . 263

' HE LOOKED AMUSED AT MY IGNORANCE * , . , . . 267
INITIAL ♦ I ' . . . . . . . , .272

' TWO TIDY LITTLE MAIDS "....... 275

• RnSS DOROTHY EXPLAINED THAT IT WAS A CURTSEY ' . . . 281

• " WHOEVER HEARD OF ATTENDING ONE OF HER MAJESTY'S DRAWING-ROOMS IN

A FROCK MADE IN NEW YORK ! " ' . . , • . . 285

• I FOUND THE CURTSEY DIFFICULT AT FIRST ' , , , . 289

X AX AMI RICA GIRL IN LONDON

.'AGS
' \VE WENT DOWN IN THE LIFT, ONE AT A TIME, WITH CHARLOTTE AS TRAIN-
BEARER ' . . . . . , . . . 295

INITIAL * P * . . . . . . . . . 298

' AND CHAOS CAME AGAIN ' . . . , . . . 299

' IT WAS MY TURN ' . . . . . . , . 305

*"IP THIS IS MISS WICK, I don't SEE WHY I SHOULDN'T HAVE A KISS TOO " ' 311

' EVEN THEN HE LOOKED, I REMEMBER, A SERIOUS PERSON ' . . . 315

'THE MISSES MAFFERTON, WHO ACCOMPANIED ME, TURNED QUITE PALE ' . 317

'THE ladies' STEWAKD* . . , , . . . . 320

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

AM an American Girl.
Therefore, perhaps, you
will not be surprised at
anything further I may
have to say for myself.
I have observed, since
I came to England, that
this statement, made by
a third person in con-
nection with any question of my
own conduct, is always broadly
explanatory. And as my own
conduct will naturally enter
more or less into this volume,
I may as well make it in the
beginning, to save complications.

It may be necessary at this point to explain further. T
know that in England an unmarried person, of my age, is not
expected to talk much, especially about herself This was a
little difficult for me to understand at first, as I have always
talked a great deal, and, one might say, been encouraged to do
it ; but I have at length been brought to understand it., and

2 ' ' ' ' kl^yAM^RJCAN CrIRl IN LONDON

lately I have spoken with becoming infrequency, and chiefly
about the Zoo. I find the Zoo to be a subject which is almost
certain to be received with approval ; and in animal nature there
is, fortunately, a good deal of variety. I do not intend, how-
ever, in this book, to talk about the Zoo, or anything con-
nected with it, but about the general impressions and experiences
I have received in your country ; and one of my reasons for
departing from approved models of discussion for young ladies
and striking out, as it were, into subject-matter on my own
account, is that I think you may find it more or less interesting.
I have noticed that you are pleased, over here, to bestow rather
more attention upon the American Girl than upon any other kind
of American that we produce. You have taken the trouble to
form opinions about her — I have heard quantities of them. Her
behaviour and her bringing-up, her idioms and her * accent' —
above all her ^ accent ' — have made themes for you, and you have
been good enough to discuss them — Mr. James, in your midst,
correcting and modifying your impressions — with a good deal of
animation, for you. I observe that she is almost the only
frivolous subject that ever gets into your newspapers. I have
become accustomed to meeting her there, usually at the break-
fast-table, dressed in green satin and diamonds. The encounter
had quite a shock of novelty for me at first, but that wore off in
time ; the green satin and diamonds were so invariable.

Being an American girl myself, I do not, naturally, quite see
the reason of this, and it is a matter I feel a delicacy about
inquiring into, on personal grounds. Privately, I should think
that the number of us that come over here every summer to see
the Tower of London and the National Gallery, and visit Strat-
ford-upon-Avon, to say nothing of those who marry and stay in
England, would have made you familiar witli the kind of young

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

women we are long ago ; and to me it is very curious that you
should go on talking about us. I can't say that we object very
much, because, while you criticise us considerably as a class,
you are very polite to us individually, and nobody minds being
criticised as a noun of multitude. But it has occurred to me
that, since so much is to be said about the American Girl, it
might be permissible for her to say some of it herself.

I have learned that in England you like to know a great
deal about people who are introduced to you — who their fathers
and mothers are, their grandfathers and grandmothers, and even
further back than that.
So I will gratify you
at once on this point,
so far as I am able. My
father is Mr. Joshua
P. Wick, of Chicago,
111. — you may have
seen his name in con-
nection with the bak-
ing-powder interest in
that city. That is how . ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ ^^o^t^^^^ '

he made his fortune —

in baking-powder ; as he has often said, it is to baking-powder
that we owe everything. He began by putting it up in small
quantities, but it is an article that is so much used in the
United States, and ours was such a very good kind, that the
demand for it increased like anything ; and though we have not
become so rich as a great many people in America, it is years
since poppa gave his personal superintendence to the business.
You will excuse my spelling it ' poppa'; I have called him that
all my life, and ' papa ' doesn't seem to mean anything to me.

4 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Lately he has devoted himself to politics ; he is in Congress now,
and at the next election momma particularly wishes him to run
for senator. There is a great deal of compliance about poppa,
and I think he will run.

Momma was a Miss Wactgaggle, of Bostx)n, and she was

' I THINK HE WILL LUN

teaching school in Chicago when poppa met her. Her grand-
father, who educated her, was a manufacturer of glass eyes.
There are Wastgaggles in Boston now, but they spell the name
with one ' g,' and lately they have been wanting momma to write
hers ' Mrs. Wastgagle-Wick ' ; but momma says that since she
never liked the name well enough to give it to any of her
children, she is certainly not going to take it again herself.
These Wastgngles speak of our great-grandfather as a well-
known oculist, and I suppose, in a sense, he was one.

I / ^v.

SHE WAS TEACHING SCHOOL IN CHICAGO WHEN POPPA MET HER'

6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

My father's father lived in England, and was also a manu-
facturer, poppa says, always adding, ' in a plain way ; ' so I sup-
pose whatever he made he made himself. It may have been
boots, or umbrellas, or pastry — poppa never states ; though I
should be disposed to think, from his taking up the baking-
powder idea, that it was pastry.

I am sorry that I am not able to give you fuller satisfaction
about my antecedents. I know that I must have had more than
I have mentioned, but my efforts to discover them — and I have
made efforts since I decided to introduce myself to you — have
been entirely futile. 1 am inclined to think that they were not
people who achieved any great distinction in life ; but I have
never held anything against them on that account, for I have no
reason to believe that they would not have been distinguished if
they could. I cannot think that it has ever been in the nature
of the Wicks, or the Wastgaggles either, to let the oppor-
tunity for distinction pass through any criminal negligence on
their part. I am perfectly willing to excuse them on this
ground, therefore ; and if I, who am most intimately concerned
in the matter, can afford to do this, perhaps it is not unreason-
able to expect it of you.

In connections we do better. A grand-aunt of some early
Wastgaggles was burned as a witch in Salem, Mass. — a thing
very few families can point back to, even in England, I should
think ; and a second cousin of momma's was the first wife of one
of our Presidents. He was a Democratic President, though, and
as poppa always votes the Republican ticket, we don't think much
of that. Besides, as we are careful to point out whenever we
mention the subject, she was in the cemetery years before he was
in the White House. And there is Mrs. Portheris, of Half-Moon
Street, Hyde Park, who is poppa's aunt by her first marriage.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 7

We were all coming at first, poppa, and momma, and I — the
others are still in school — and it had appeared among the ' City
Personals ' of the ' Chicago Tribune ' that ' Colonel and Mrs.
Joshua P. Wick, accompanied by Miss Mamie Wick ' — I forgot
to say that poppa was in the Civil War — ^ would have a look at
monarchical institutions this summer.' Our newspapers do get
hold of things so. But just a week before we were to sail
something arose — I think it was a political complication — to pre-
vent poppa's going, and momma is far too much of an invalid to
undertake such a journey without him. I must say that both
my parents are devoted to me, and when I said I thought I'd
prefer going alone to giving up the trip, neither of them opposed
it. Momma said she thought I ought to have the experience,
because, though I'd been a good deal in society in Chicago, she
didn't consider that that in itself was enough. Poppa said that
the journey was really nothing nowadays, and he could easily
get me a letter of introduction to the captain. Besides, in a
shipful of two or three hundred there would be sure to be some
pleasant people I could get acquainted with on the voyage.
Mrs. Von Stuvdidyl, who lives next door to us, and has been to
Europe several times, suggested that I should take a maid, and
momma rather liked the idea, but I persuaded her out of it. I
couldn't possibly have undertaken the care of a maid.

And then we all thought of Mrs. Portheris.

None of us had ever seen her, and there had been very little
correspondence ; in fact, we had not had a letter from her since
several years ago, when she wrote a long one to poppa, some-
thing about some depressed California mining stock, I believe,
which she thought poppa, as her nephew and an American,
ought to take off her hands before it fell any lower. And I
remember that poppa obliged her : whether as an A merican or

S AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

as her nephew I don't know. After that she sent us every year
a Christmas card, with an angel or a bunch of forget-me-nots on
it, inscribed, ' To my nephew and niece, Joshua Peter and Mary
Wick, and all their dear ones.' Her latest offering was lying in
the card-basket on the table then, and I am afraid we looked at
it with more interest than we had ever done before. The ' dear

I AM AFRAID WE LOOKED AT IT WITH MORE INTEREST THAN
WE EVER HAD DONE BEFORE '

ones ' read so sympathetically that momma said she knew we could
depend upon Mrs. Portheris to take me round and make me
enjoy myself, and she wanted to cable that I was coming. But
poppa said No, his aunt must be getting up in years now, and
an elderly English lady might easily be frightened into apoplexy
by a cablegram. It was a pity there was no time to write, but
I must just go and see her immediately, and say that I was the
daughter of Joshua P. Wick, of Chicago, and she would be
certain to make me feel at home at once. But, as I said, none
of us knew Mrs. Portheris.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

JAM not tnucli acquainted in New York, so I had only poppa
and Mr. Winterhazel to see me off. Mr. Winterhazel lives
there, and does business in Wall Street, where he operates very
successfully, I've been told, for such a young man. We had
been the greatest friends and regular correspondents for three
or four years — our tastes in literature and art were almost
exactly the same, and it was a jnutual pleasure to keep it up —
but poppa had never met him before. They were very happy to
make each other's acquaintance, though, and became quite inti-
mate at once ; they had heard so much about each other, they
said. We had allowed two days before the steamer sailed, so
that I could make some purchases — New York styles are so dif-
ferent from Chicago ones ; and, as poppa said afterwards, it was
very fortunate that ]\Ir. Winterhazel was there. Otherwise, I
should have been obliged to go round to the stores alone; for
poppa himself was so busy seeing people about political matters
that he hadn't the thirtieth part of a second for me, except at
meal-times, and then there was almost always somebody there.
London is nothing to New York for confusion and hurry, and
until you get accustomed to it the Elevated is apt to be very
trying to your nerves. But Mr. Winterhazel was extremely
kind, and gave up his whole time to me ; and as he knew all
the best stores, this put me under the greatest obligation to him.
After dinner the first evening be took me to hear a gentleman

so AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

who was lecturing on the London of Charles Dickens, with a
stereopticon, thinking that, as I was going to London, it would pro-
bably be of interest to me — and it was. I anticipated your city
more than ever afterwards. Poppa was as disappointed as could
be that he wasn't able to go with us to the lecture ; but he said
that politics were politics, and I suppose they are.

Next day I sailed from North River Docks, Pier No. 2, a
fresh wind blowing all the harbour into short blue waves, with
the sun on them, and poppa and Mr. Winterhazel taking ofi
their hats and waving their handkerchiefs as long as I could see
them. I suppose I started for Great Britain with about as many
comforts as most people have — poppa and Mr. Winterhazel had
almost filled my state-room with flowers, and I found four pounds
of caramels under the lower berth — but I confess, as we steamed
out past Staten Island, and I saw the statue of Liberty getting
smaller and smaller, and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean getting
bigger and bigger, I felt very much by myself indeed, and
began to depend a good deal upon Mrs. Portheris.

As to the caramels, in the next three hours I gave the whole
of them to the first stewardess, who was kind enough to oblige
me with a lemon.

Before leaving home I had promised everybody that I would
keep a diary, and most of the time I did ; but I find nothing at
all of interest in it about the first three days of the voyage to
London. The reason was that I had no opportunity whatever of
making observations. But on the morning of the fourth day I was
obliged to go on deck. The stewardess said she couldn't put up
with it any longer, and I would never recover if I didn't ; and I was
very glad afterwards that I gave in. She was a real kind-hearted
stewardess, I may say, though her manner was a little peremptory.

I didn't find as much sociability on deck as I expected. I

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON il

should have thought everybody would have been more or less ac-
quainted by that time, but, with the exception of a few gentlemen,
people were standing or sitting round in the same little knots
they came on board in. And yet it was very smooth. I was
so perfectly delighted to be well again that I felt I must talk to
somebody, so I spoke to one of a party of ladies from Boston
who I thought might know the Wastgagles there. I was very
polite, and she did not seem at all sea-sick, but I found it
difficult to open up a conversation with her. I knew that the
Bostonians thought a good deal of themselves — all the Wast-
gagles do — and her manner somehow made me think of a story
I once heard of a Massachusetts milestone, marked ' 1 m. from
Boston,' which somebody thought was a wayside tablet with the
simple pathetic epitaph, ' I'm from Boston,' on it ; and just to
enliven her I told her the story. * Indeed ! ' she said. ' Well,
we are from Boston.'

I didn't quite know what to do after that, for the only other
lady near me was English, I knew by her boots. Beside the
boots she had grey hair and pink cheeks, and rather sharp grey
eyes, and a large old-fashioned muff, and a red cloud. Only an
Englishwoman would be wearing a muff and a cloud like that in
public — nobody else would dare to do it. She was rather portly,
and she sat very firmly and comfortably in her chair with her
feet crossed, done up in a big Scotch rug, and being an English-
woman I knew that she would not expect anybody to speak to
her who had not been introduced. She would probably, I
thought, give me a haughty stare, as they do in novels, and say,
with cold repression, ' You have the advantage of me, miss ! ' —
and then what would my feelings be ? So I made no more ad-
vances to anybody, but walked off my high spirits on the hurri-
cane-deck, thinking about the exclusiveness of those Bostonians,

12 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

and wondering whether, as a nation, we could be catching it
from England.

You may imagine my feelings — or rather, as you are probably
English, you can't —when the head steward gave me my place
at the dinner-table immediately opposite the Bostonians, and
between this lady and an unknown gentleman. ' I shall not
make a single travelling acquaintance ! ' I said to myself as I sat
down — and I must say I was disappointed. I began to realise
how greatly we had all unconsciously depended upon my forming
nice travelling acquaintances, as people always do in books, to
make the trip pleasant, and I thought that in considering an-
other voyage I should divorce myself from that idea beforehand.
However, I said nothing, of course, and found a certain amount
of comfort in my soup.

I remember the courses of that dinner very well, and if they
were calculated to niake interesting literary matter I could write
them out. The Bostonians ostentatiously occupied themselves
with one another. One of them took up a position several miles
behind her spectacles, looked at me through them, and then said
something to her neighbour about ' Daisy Miller,' which the
neighbour agreed to. I know what they meant now. The
gentleman, when he was not attending to his dinner, stared at
the salt-cellar most of the time, in a blark, abstracted way ; and
the English lady, who looked much nicer unshelled than she did
on deck, kept her head carefully turned in the other direction,
and made occasional remarks to an elderly person next her who
was very deaf. If I had not been hungry, I don't know how I
should have felt. But I maintained an absolute silence and ato
my dinner.

Gradually — perhaps because the elderly person was so
extremely deaf, and my own behaviour comparatively unaggrcs-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 13

sive — the lady of England began to assume a less uncomfortable
position. A certain repellent air went out of her right shoulder.
Presently she sat quite parallel with the table. By the advent
of the pudding — it was cabinet pudding — I had become con-
scious that she had looked at me casually three times. When
the Gorgonzola appeared I refused it. In America ladies eat
very little Gorgonzola.

' Don't you like cheese ? ' she said, suddenly, a little as if I
had offended her. I was so startled that I equivocated some-
what.

' No'm, net to day, I think — thank you ! ' I said. The fact
is, I never touch it.

' Oh ! ' she responded. ' But then, this is your first ap-
pearance, I suppose ? In that case, you wouldn't like it.' And
I felt forgiven.

She said nothing more until dessert, and then she startled
me again. ' Have you been bad ? ' she inquired.

I didn't know quite what to say, it seemed such an extia-
ordinary question, but it flashed upon me that perhaps the lady
was some kind of missionary, in which case it was my duty to
be respectful. So I said that I hoped not — that at least 1
hadn't been told so since I was a very little girl. ' But then,'
I said, ' The Episcopalian Prayer-book says we're all miserable
sinners, doesn't it ? ' The lady looked at me in astonishment.

' What has the Prayer-book to do with your being ill ? '
she exclaimed. ' Oh, I see ! ' and she laughed very heartily.
* You thought I meant naughty ! Cross-questions and crooked
answers! Mr. Mafferton, you will appreciate this!' ls\v.
Mafferton was the gentleman whom I have mentioned in con-
nection with the salt-cellars ; and my other neighbour seemed
to know him, which, as they both came from England, did not

14 AN A ^f ERIC AN GIRL IN LONDON

surprise me then, although now I should be inclined to consider
that the most likely reason of all why they shouldn't be ac-
quainted. I didn't see anything so very humorous in it, but
the lady explained our misunderstanding to Mr. Mafferton as if
it were the greatest joke imaginable, and she had made it
herself. ' Really,' she said, ' it's good enough for " Punch ! ' "
I was unfamiliar with that paper then, and couldn't say ; but
now I think it was myself.

Mr. Mafferton coloured dreadfully — I omitted to say that he
was a youngish gentleman — and listened with a sort of strained
smile, which debouched into a hesitating and uncomfortable
remark about * curious differences in idioms.' I thought he
intended it to be polite, and he said it in the most agreeable
man's voice I had ever heard ; but I could not imagine what
there was to flurry him so, and I felt quite sorry for him. And
he had hardly time to get safely back to the salt-cellar before we
all got up.

Next morning at breakfast I got on beautifully with the
English lady, who hardly talked to the elderly deaf person at all,
but was kind enough to be very much interested in what I
expected to see in London. ' Your friends will have their
hands full,' she remarked, with a sort of kind acerbity, ' if
they undertake to show you all that ! ' I thought of poor old
Mrs. Portheris, who was probably a martyr to rheumatism and
neuralgia, with some compunction. ' Oh ! ' I said, ' I shouldn't
think of asking them to ; I'll read it all up, and then I can go
round beautifully by myself!'

' By yourself!^ she exclaimed. 'You! This is an inde-
pendent American young lady — the very person I went espe-
cially to the United States to see, and spent a whole season in
New York, going everywhere, without coming across a single

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 15

Bpecimen ! You must excuse my staring at you. But you'll
have to get over that idea. Your friends will never in the world
allow it — I suppose you Ificbve friends ? '

' No,' I said ; ' only a relation.'

The lady laughed. ' Do you intend that for a joke ? ' she
asked. ' Well, they do mean different things sometimes. But
we'll see what the relation will have to say to it.'

Mr. Mafferton occasionally removed his eyes from the salt-
cellar during this meal, and even ventured a remark or two.
The remarks were not striking in any way — ^there was no food
for thought in them whatever ; yet they were very agreeable.
Whether it was Mr. Mafferton's voice, or his manner, or his
almost apologetic way of speaking, as if he knew that he was
not properly acquainted, and ought not to do it, I don't know,
but I liked hearing him make them. It was not, however,
until later in the day, when I was sitting on deck talking with
the lady from England about New York, where she didn't seem
to like anything but the air and the melons, that I felt the least
bit acquainted with Mr. Mafferton. I had found out her name,
by the way. She asked me mine, and when I told her she said :
' But you're old enough now to have a Christian name — weren't
you christened Mary ? ' She went on to say that she believed
in the good old-fashioned names, like Nancy and Betsy, that
couldn't be babified — and I am not sure whether she told me, or
it was by intuition, that I learned that hers was Hephzibah. It
seems to me now that it never could have been anything else.
But I am quite certain she added that her husband was Hector
Torquilin, and that he had been dead fifteen years. ' A dis-
tinguished man in his time, my dear, as you would know if you
had been brought up in an English schoolroom.' And just then,
while I was wondering what would be the most appropriate thing

i6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

to say to a lady who told you that her husband had been dead
fifteen years, and was a distinguished man in his time, and
wishing that I had been brought up in an English schoolroom,
so that I could be polite about him, Mr. Mafferton came up.
He had one of Mr. W. D. Howells' novels in his hand, and at
once we glided into the subject of American literature. I re
member I was surprised to find an Englishman so good-naturt'd
in his admiration of some of our authors, and so willing to con
cede an American standard which might be a high one, and yet
have nothing to do with Dickens, and so appreciative generally
of the conditions which have brought about our ways of thinking
and writing. We had a most delightful conversation— I had
no idea there was so much in Mr. ^lafferton — and Mrs. Torquilin
only interrupted once. That was to ask us if either of us had
ever read the works of Fenimore Cooper, who was about the
only author America had ever produced. Neither of us had, and 1
said 1 thought there were some others. ' Well,' she said, ' he
is the only one we ever hear of in England.' But I don't think
Mrs. Torquilin was quite correct in this statement, because since
I have been in England I have met three or four people, beside
Mr. Mafferton, who knew, or at least had heard of, several
American writers. Then Mrs. Torquilin went to sleep, and
when she woke up it was five o'clock, and her maid was just
arriving with her tea. Mr. Mafferton asked me if he might get
me some, but I said. No, thanks ; I thought I would take a
brisk walk instead, if Mrs. Torquilin would excuse me.

* Certainly,' she said ; ' go and take some exercise, both of
you. It's much better for young people than tea-drinking.
And see here, my dear ! I thought you were very sensible not
to dress for dinner last night, like those silly young fools oppo-
site. Silly young fools I call them. Now, take my advice, and

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 17

don't let them persuade you to do it. An Atlantic steamer is
no place for bare arms. Now run away, and have your walk,
and Mr. Mafferton will see that you're not blown overboard.'

Mr. Mafferton hesitated a moment. ' Are you quite sure,
he said, ' that you wouldn't prefer the tea ? '

' Oh yes, sir ! ' I said; ' we always have tea at half-past six
at home, and I don't care about it so early as this. I'd much
rather walk. But don't trouble to come with me if yon would
like some tea.'

' I'll come,' he said, * if you won't call me '' sir." * Here he
frowned a little and coloured. * It makes one feel seventy, you
know. May I ask why you do it ? '

I explained that in Chicago it was considered polite to say
* ma'am ' or ' sir ' to a lady or gentleman of any age with whom
you did not happen to be very well acquainted, and I had heard
it all my life ; still, if he objected to it, I would not use it in his
case.

He said he thought he did object to it — from a lady ; it had
other associations in his ears.

So I stopped calling Mr. INIafFerton 'sir'; and since then,
except to very old gentlemen, I have got out of the way of using
the expression. I asked him if there was anything else that
struck him as odd in my conversation kindly to tell me, as of
course I did not wish to be an unnecessary shock to my relation
in Half-Moon Street. He did not say he would, but we seemed
to get on together even more agreeably after that.

Mr. Mafferton appeared to know nobody on board but Mrs.
Torquilin ; and I made acquaintance with hardly anybody else,
so that we naturally saw a good deal of each other, usually in
the afternoons, walking up and down the deck. He lent me all
his books, and I lent him all mine, and we exchanged opinions on

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

a great variety of subjects. When we argued, he was always
very polite and considerate; but I noticed one curious thing
about him — I never could bring him round to my point of view.
He did not seem to see the necessity of coming, although I often

* WE SEEMED TO GET ON TOGETHER EVEN MORE AGREEABLY AFTER THAT '

went round to his. This was a new experience to me in arguing
with a gentleman. And he always talked very impersonally.
At first this struck me as a little cold and uninterested, but
afterwards I liked it. It was like drinking a very nice kind of

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 19

pure cold water — after the different flavours of personality I had
always been accustomed to. Mr. Mafferton only made one
exception to this rule that I remember, and that was the after-
noon before we landed. Then he told me particularly about his
father and mother, and their tastes and occupations, also the
names and ages of his brothers and sisters, and their tastes and
occupations, and where he lived. But I cannot say I found him
as interesting that afternoon as usual.

I need not describe the bustle and confusion of landing at
Liverpool Docks in the middle of a wet April afternoon. Mrs.
Torquilin had told me at breakfast not on any account to let
my relations take me away before she had given me her address ;
but when the time came I guess — if you will allow me — she
must have forgotten, because the last time I saw her she was
standing under a very big umbrella, which the maid held over
her, a good deal excited, and giving a great many orders about
her luggage to a nervous-looking man in livery.

I easily identified mine, and got off' by train for London
without any trouble to speak of. We arrived rather late, though,
and it was still pouring.

'• What has become of your people ? ' asked somebody at my
elbow. I turned and saw Mr. Mafferton, who must have come
down by the same train.

* I didn't expect my relation to meet me,' I said ; 'she doesn't
expect me ! '

' Oh ! ' said Mr. Mafferton ; ' you did not write to her before
you sailed ? '

* No,' I said. * There wasn't time.'

* Upon my word ! ' said Mr. Mafferton. Then, as T suppose
r looked rather surprised, he added, hastily : ' I only mean that
it seems so — so uncommonly extraordinary, you know ! But I

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

would advise you, in that case, to give the bulk of your luggage
into the hands of the forwarding agents, with instructions to send
it early to-morrow to your friend's
address. It is all you can do to-
night,' said Mr. Mafferton, ' really.
Ot course, you will go there imme-
diately yourself.'

'No,' I responded, firmly; 'I
think not, Mr. Mafferton. My rela-
tion is very elderly, and probably in
bad health. For all I know, she may
have gone to bed. I must not dis-

■ WHAT PUZZLED ME WAS, WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER CAB '

turb her so late. All the people I have ever known have stayed
at the " M^tropole " in London. I will go to the Metropole for
to-night, and have my things sent there. To-morrow I will go

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 21

and see my relation, and if she asks me to visit her I can easily
telephone up for them. Thank you very much/

Mr. MafFerton looked as sober as possible, if not a little
annoyed. Then he went and got the agent's young man, and
asked me to poiut out my things to him, which I did, and got
receipts. Then he told a porter to call a cab, and put my smaller
valises into it. * I will put you in,' he said, and he gave me his
arm and his umbrella, through the wettest rain I have ever
experienced, to the hansom. I thanked him again very cordially,
and before he said good-bye he very kindly gave me his card
and address, and begged me to let him know if there was any-
thing he could do for me.

Then I rattled away through the blurred lights of your inter-
minable twisted streets to the Metropole, fancying I saw West-
minster Abbey or St. Paul's through the rain at every turn.

When we stopped at last before the hotel, another hansom
behind us stopped too, and though I am sure he didn't intend
me to, I saw quite plainly through the glass — Mr. Mafferton.
It was extremely kind of him to wish to be of assistance to a
lady alone, especially in such weather, and I could easily under-
stand his desire to see me to my hotel ; but what puzzled me
wa«!, why he should have taken another cab !

And all night long I dreamed of Mrs. Portheri.9.

21 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I ONCE visited the Wastgagles in Boston with momma. It wai=
a visit of condolence, just after the demise of a grandmother
of theirs. I was going to say, that never since that occasion had
I experienced anything like the solemnity of my breakfast at
the Metropole the morning after I arrived. As a sad-faced
waiter with mutton-chop whiskers marshalled me across the room
to an empty little white-and-silvery table beside one of the big
windows, I felt, for the first time in my life, that I was being
made imposing, and I objected to the feeling. The place itself
did not impress me particularly — in America we are accustomed
to gorgeousness in our hotels, and the mirrors and the gilding
of the Metropole rather made me feel at home than otherwise ;
but it was the demeanour of everything that weighed upon me.
My very chair lived up to its own standard of decorum ; and
the table seemed laid upon a pattern of propriety that it would
never willingly depart from. There was an all-pervading sense
of order in the air. I couldn't make out exactly where it came
from, but it was there, and it was fearful. The waiters spoke
to each other in low tones, as if something of deep and serious
importance were going on ; and when I told one of them what
I should like from the bill-of-fare, he bent down his ear and
received my order as if it had been confidential State business I
was asking him to undertake. When he came back, carrying
the tray in frofit of him, it was almost processional. And in the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 2^

interval, when I turned round to look out of the window, and
saw another of those respectfully-subdued waiters standing
behind my chair, quite motionless, I jumped. A great many
people were getting their breakfasts, not with the cheerful alac-
rity which we use at home, but rather with a portentous deli-
beration and concentration which did not admit of much talking.
The silence was broken only in one corner, where a group of
Americans seemed to have got accustomed to the atmosphere.
When the English breakfasters raised their eyes from their
papers and eggs-and-toast, they regarded my talkative com-
patriots with a look which must have fairly chilled their tea. I
hope nobody has ever looked at me like that in England The
Americans were from Virginia, as I could tell by their accent,
and their ' c'y'arn't ' and ' sis'r ' and ' honey ' and ' heap better.'
But I have no doubt the English people, in their usual loftily com-
prehensive fashion, set the strangers down as ' Yankees,' and no
amount of explanation could have taught them that the ' Yankees
are the New Englanders, and that the name would once have been
taken as an insult by a Southerner. But the Virginians were
blissfully indifferent to the British estimate of themselves, and they
talked as freely of their shopping and sight-seeing as they would
in Delmonico's or the Brunswick. To be perfectly honest, a
conviction came to me then that sometimes we don't care enough.
But, for my part, I liked listening to that Virginian corner.

I'm afraid it was rather a late breakfast, and the lobby
was full of people strolling in and out when I went through on
my way to my room. I stood for a moment at the dining-room
door looking at the lobby — I had heard so many Chicago people
describe it — and I noticed in the seats that run around it,
against the wall, two young women. They were leaning back
nonchalantly, watching the comers and the goers. Both of
3

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

them had their knees crossed, and one had her hands in her
jacket pockets. A man in the seat next them, who might or
might not have belonged to them, was smoking a large cigar.
Two English ladies came out from breakfast behind me, stood
waiting for somebody, and said one to the other : ' Look at
those disgusting American girls ! ' But I had seen the young
women's boots. Just to be satisfied, I walked up to one of them,

* " THOSE WSGUSTINO AMEBICAN GIRLS " '

and asked her if she could kindly tell me when I ought to post
letters for New York.

' The American maiyel goes out Wednesdays an' Satuhdays,-
I fancy,' the young woman replied, * but I'm not suah ; it would
be saifah to ask the clahk ! '

She spoke quite distinctly, so that the English ladies must
have heard her, and I am afraid they saw in my glance as I
went upstairs that I had intended to correct their mistake.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON t$

I started to see Mrs. Portheris at eleven o'clock on the
morning of the 9th of April — a lovely day, a day which augured
brightly and hopefully. I waited carefully till eleven, thinking
by that time my relation would have had her breakfast in bed
and been dressed, and perhaps have been helped downstairs to
her own particular sunny window, where I thought I might see
her faded, placid, sweet old face looking up from her knitting
and out into the busy street. Words have such an inspiring
effect upon the imagination. All this had emanated from the
' dear ones,' and I felt confident and pleased and happy before-
hand to be a dear one. I wore one of my plainest walking-
dresses — I love simplicity in dress — so as to mitigate the shock
to my relation as far as I could ; but it was a New York one,
and it gave me a great deal of moral support. It may be weak-
minded in me, but I simpl}' couldn't have gone to see my rela-
tion in a hat and gloves that didn't match. Clothes and courage
have so much to do with each other.

The porter said that I had better take ' a 'ansora,' or if I
walked to Charing Cross I could get ' a 'Ammersmith 'bus '
which would take me to Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly. I asked
him if there were any street-cars running that way. ' D'ye
mean growlers, miss ? ' he said. * I can get ye a growler in
'arf a minute/ But I didn't know what he meant, and I didn't
like the sound of it. A ' growler ' was probably not at all a
proper thing for a young lady to ride in ; and I was determined
to be considerate of the feelings of my relation. I saw ladies
in hansoms, but I had never been in one at home, and they
looked very tiltuppy. Also, they went altogether too fast, and
as it was a slippery day the horses attached to them sat down
and rested a great deal oftener than I thought I should like.
And when the animals were not poor old creatures that were

26 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

obliged to sit down in this precipitate way, they danced and
pranced in a manner which did not inspire me with confidence.
In America our cab-horses know themselves to be cab-horses, and
behave accordingly — they have none of the national theories
about equality whatever ; but the London quadrupeds might be
the greatest Democrats going from the airs they put on. And
I saw no street-cars anywhere. So I decided upon the 'Ammer-
smith 'bus, and the porter pointed out the direction of Charing
Cross.

It seems to me now that I was what you would call * uncom-
monly* stupid about it, but I hadn't gone very far before I
realised that I did not quite know what Charing Cross was. I
had come, you see, from a city where the streets are mostly
numbered, and run pretty much in rows. The more I thought
about it, the less it seemed to mean anything. So I asked a
large policeman — the largest and straightest policeman, with
the reddest face I had ever seen : ' Mr. Officer,' I said, knowing
your fondness for titles in this country, *what is Charing
Cross?'

He smiled very kindly. * Wy, miss,' he said, 'there's Char-
ing Cross Station, and there's Charing Cross 'Otel, and there's
Charing Cross. Wot were you wanting pertickeler ? '

' Charing Cross ! ' said I.

' There it lies, in front of you ! ' the policeman said, waving
his arm so as to take in the whole of Trafalgar Square. ' It
ain't possible for you to miss it. Miss. And as three other
people were waiting to ask him something else, I thought
I ought not to occupy his attention any further. I kept
straight on, in and out among the crowd, comparing it in my
mind with a New York or Chicago crowd. I found a great
many more kinds of people in it than there would be at home.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 37

You are remarkably different in this country. We are a good
deal the same. I was not at all prepared then to make a com-
parison of averages, but I noticed that life seemed to mean some-
thing more serious for most of the people I met than it does with
us. Hardly anybody was laughing, and very few people were
making unseemly haste about their business. There was no
eagerness and no enthusiasm. Neither was there any hustling.
In a crowd like that in Chicago everybody would have hustled,
and nobody would have minded it.

* Where is Charing Cross ? ' I asked one of the flower-
women sitting by the big iron entrances to the station. ' Bight
'ere, miss, ware you be a-standin' ! Bwif a flower, miss ? Only
a penny ! an* lovely they are ! I)o buy one, laidy ! ' It was
dreadfully pathetic, the way she said it, and she had frightful
holes in her shawl, and no hat or bonnet on. I had never seen
a woman selling things out of doors with nothing on her head
before, and it hurt me somehow. But I couldn't possibly have
bought her flowers — they were too much like her. So I gave her
a sixpence, and asked her where I could find an 'Ammersmith
*bus. She thanked me so volubly that I couldn't possibly under-
stand her, but I made out that if I stayed where I was an
'Ammersmith 'bus would presently arrive. She went on asking
me to buy flowers though, so I walked a little farther off. I
waited a long time, and not a single 'bus appeared with 'Ammer-
smith on it. Finally, I asked another policeman. * There ! ' he
said, as one of the great lumbering concerns rolled up — ' that's
one of 'em now ! You'll get it ! ' I didn't like to dispute with
an officer of the law, but I had seen plenty of that particular
red variety of 'bus go past, and to be quite certain I said : ' But
isn't that a Hammersmith one ? ' The policeman looked quite
cross, * Well, isn't that what you're a-askin' for ? 'Ammersmith

28 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

an' 'Ammersmith — it's all the saime, dependin' on 'ow you per-
nounces it. Some people calls it 'Ammersmith, an' some people
calls it 'Ammersmith ! ' and he turned a broad and indignant
back upon me. I flew for the 'bus, and the conductor, in a
friendly way, helped me on by my elbow.

I did not think, before, that anything could wobble like an
Atlantic steamer, but I experienced nothing more trying coming
over than that Hammersmith 'bus. And there were no straps
from the roof to hold on by —nothing but a very high and in-
convenient handrail ; and the vehicle seemed quite full of stout
old gentlemen with white whiskers, who looked deeply annoyed
when I upset their umbrellas and unintentionally plunged upon
their feet. ' More room houtside, miss ! ' the conductor said —
which I considered impertinent, thinking that he meant in the
road. ' Is there any room on top ? ' I asked him, because I had
walked on so many of the old gentlemen's feet that I felt uncom-
fortable about it. ' Yes, miss ; that's wot I'm a-sayin' — lots o'
room ^owfeide ! ' So I took advantage of a lame man's getting
off to mount the spiral staircase at the back of the 'bus and
take a seat on top. It is a pity, isn't it, that Noah didn't think
of an outside spiral staircase like that to his ark. He might
have accommodated so many more of the animals, providing
them, of course, with oilskin covers to keep off the wet, as you
do. But even coming from a bran new and irreverent country,
where nobody thinks of consulting the Old Testament for models
of public conveyances, anybody can see that in many respects
you have improved immensely upon Noah.

It was lovely up there — exactly like coming on deck after
being in a stuffy little cabin in the steamer — a good deal of
motion, but lots of fresh air. I was a little nervous at first, but
as nobody i'ell off the tops of any of the other 'buses, I concluded

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 29

that it was not a thing you were expected to do, and presently
forgot all about it looking at the people swarming below me.
My position made me feel immeasurably superior — at such a
swinging height above them all — and I found myself speculating
about them and criticising them, as I never should have done
walking. I had never ridden on the top of anything before ; it
gave me an entirely new revelation of my fellow -creatures — if
your monarchical feelings will allow that expression from a
Republican. I must say I liked it — looking down upon people
who were travelling in the same direction as I was, only on a
le\ el below. I began to understand the agreeableness of class
distinctions, and I wondered whether the arrangement of seats
on the tops of the 'buses was not, probably, a material result of
aristocratic prejudices.

Oh, I liked it through and through, that first ride on a
London 'bas ! To know just how I liked it, and why, and how
and why we all like it from the other side of the Atlantic, you
must be born and brought up, as most of us have been, in a
city twenty -five or fifty years old, where the houses are all made
of clean wliite or red brick, with clean green lawns and geranium
beds and painted iron fences ; where rows of nice new maple-
trees are planted in the clean-shaved boulevards, and fresh -
planed wooden sidewalks run straight for a mile or two at a
time, and all the city blocks stand in their proper right angles —
which are among our advantages, I have no doubt; but our
advantages have a way of making your disadvantages more in-
teresting. Having been monarchists all your lives, however,
you can't possibly understand what it is to have been brought
up in fresh paint. I ought not to expect it of you. If you
could, though, I should find it easier to tell you, according to
my experience, why we are all so devoted to London.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

There was the smell, to begin with. I write ' there was,'
because I regret to say that during the past few months I have
become accustomed to it, and for me that smell is done up in
a past tense for ever; so that I can quite understand a Londoner
not believing in it. The Hammersmith 'bus
was in the Strand when I first became conscious
of it, and 1 noticed afterwards that it was

always more pro-
nounced down there,
in the heart of the
City, than in Ken-
sington, for in-
stance. It was no
special odour or
collection of odours
that could be dis-
tinguished — it was
rather an abstract
smell — and yet it
gave a kind of
solidity and nutri-
ment to the air, and
made you feel as if
your lungs digested
it. There was com-
fort and support
and satisfaction in
that smell, and I often vainly try to smell it again.

We find the irregularity of London so gratifying, too. The
way the streets turn and twist and jostle each other, and lead
up into nothing, and turn around and come back again, and

WHEBE SMALL BOYS GO
BOUND ON ONE BOLLEE
SKATE '

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 31

assume aliases^ and break out into circuses and stray into queer,
dark courts, where small boys go round on one roller skate, or
little green churchyards only a few yards from the cabs' and the
crowd, where there is nobody but the dead people, who have
grown tired of it all. From the top of the Hammersmith 'bus,
as it went through the Strand that morning, I saw funny little
openings that made me long to get down and look into them ;
but I had my relation to think of, so I didn't.

Then there is the well- settled, well-founded look of every-
thing, as if it had all come ages ago, and meant to stay for ever,
and just go on the way it had before. We like that — the
security and the permanence of it, which seems to be in some
way connected with the big policemen, and the orderly crowd,
and ' Keep to the Left ' on the signboards, and the British coat
of arms over so many of the shops. I thought that morning
that those shops were probably the property of the Crown, but
I was very soon corrected about that. At home I am afraid we
fluctuate considerably, especially in connection with cyclones
and railway interests — we are here to-day, and there is no tell-
ing where we shall be to-morrow. So the abiding kind of city
gives us a comfortable feeling of confidence. It was not very
long before even I, on the top of the Hammersmith 'bus, felt
that I was riding an Institution, and no matter to what extent
it wobbled it might be relied upon not to come down.

I don't know whether you will like our admiring you on
account of your griminess, but we do. At home we are so
monotonously clean, architecturally, that we can't make any
aesthetic pretensions whatever. There is nothing artistic about
white brick. It is clean and neat and sanitary, but you get
tired of looking at it, especially when it is made up in patterns
with red brick mixed in. And since you must be dirty, it may

32 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

gratify you to know that you are very soothing to Transatlantic
nerves suffering from patterns like that. But you are also mis-
leading. ' I suppose,' I said to a workman in front of me as we
entered Fleet Street, ' that is some old palace ? Do you know
the date of it ? '

' No, miss,' he answered, ' that ain't no palace. Them's the
new Law Courts, only built the last ten year ! '

The new Law Courts !

' The Strand ! ' ' Fleet Street ! ' ' Ludgate Hill ! ' ' Cheap-
Bide ! ' and I was actually in those famous places, riding through
them on a 'bus, part of their multitude. The very names on
the street corners held fascination enough, and each of them gave
me the separate little thrill of the altogether unexpected. I had
unconsciously believed that all these names were part of the
vanished past I had connected them with, forgetting that in
London names endure. But I began to feel that I ought to be
arriving. ' Conductor,' I said, as he passed, ' stop the 'bus,
and let me get down at Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly.'

' We're goin' strait awai from it, miss ; you get that red 'bus
standin' over there — that'll taike you ! '

So I went all the way back again, and on to my relation's,
on the top of the red 'bus, not at all regretting my mistake.
But it made it almost twelve o'clock when I rang the bell —
Mrs. Portheris's bell — at the door of her house in Half-^Ioou
Street, Piccadilly,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 33

FROM the outside T didn't think much of Mrs. Portheris's
house. It was very tall, and very plain, and very narrow,
and quite expressionless, except that it wore a sort of dirty brown
frown. Like its neighbours, it had a well in front of it, and
steps leading down into the well, and an iron fence round the
steps, and a brass bell-handle lettered ' Tradesmen.' Like its
neighbours, too, it wore boxes of spotty black greenery on the
window-sills — in fact, it was very like its neighbours, except
that it had one or two solemn little black balconies that looked
as if nobody ever sat in them running across the face of it, and
a tall, shallow porch, with two or three extremely white stone
steps before the front door. Half-Moon Street, to me, looked
like a family of houses — a family differing in heights and
complexions and the colour of its hair, but sharing all the
characteristics of a family — of an old family. A person draws a
great many conclusions from the outside of a house, and my
conclusion from the outside of my relation's house was that she
couldn't be very well off to be obliged to live in such a plain
and gloomy locality, with ' Tradesmen ' on the ground-floor ;
and I hoped they were not any noisy kind of tradesmen, such
as shoemakers or carpenters, who would disturb her early in
the morning. The clean-scrubbed stone steps reflected very
favourably, I thought, upon Mrs. Portheris, and gave the
house, in spite of its grimy, old-fashioned, cramped appearance,

AN AMERICAA GIRL IN LONDON

FBOU THE OUTSIDE I DIDN't THINK MUCH OF MRS. PORTHERIS'S HOUSB *

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 35

a look of respectability which redeemed it. But I did not see
at any window, behind the spotty evergreens, the sweet, sad
face of my relation, though there were a hand-organ and a
monkey and a German band all operating within twenty yards
of the house.

I rang the bell. The door opened a great deal more
quickly than you might imagine from the time I am taking to
tell about it, and I was confronted by my first surprise in
London. It was a man — a neat, smooth, pale, round-faced
man in livery, rather fat and very sad. It was also Mrs.
Portheris's interior. This was very dark and very quiet, but
what light there was fell richly, through a square, stained-
glass window at the end of the hall, upon the red and blue of
some old china above a door, and a collection of Indian spears,
and a twisting old oak staircase that glowed with colour. Mrs.
Portheris's exterior had prepared me for something different. I
did not know then that in London everything is a matter of the
inside — I had not seen a Duchess living crowded up to her
ears with other people's windows. With us the outside counts
so tremendously. An American duchess, if you can imagine
such a person, would consider it only due to the fitness of
things that she should have an imposing front yard, and at least
room enough at the back for the clothes-lines. But this has
nothing to do with Half-Moon Street.

* Does Mrs. Portheris live here ? ' I asked, thinking it was
just possible she might have moved.

' Yes, miss,' said the footman, with a subdued note of inter-
rogation.

I felt relieved. * Is she — is she well ? ' I inquired.

* Qxdie well, miss,' he replied, with the note of interrogation
a little more obvious.

36 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* 1 should like to see her. Is she in ?*

* I'll h'inquire, miss. 'Oo shall I sai, miss ? *

I thought 1 would prepare my relation gradually. ' A lady
from Chicago,' said I.

* Very well, miss. Will you walk upstairs, miss ? '

In America drawing-rooms are on the ground-floor. I
thought he wanted to usher me into Mrs. Portheris's bodroom.
' No, sir,' I said ; * I'll wait here.' Then I thought of Mi-.
Mafferton, and of what he had said about saying ' sir ' to
people, and my sensations were awful. I have never done it
once since.

The footman reappeared in a few minutes with a troubled
and apologetic countenance. ' Mrs. Portheris says as she doesn't
want anythink, miss ! I told her as I didn't understand you
were disposin' of anythink ; but that was 'er message, miss.'

I couldn't help laughing — it was so very funny to think of
my being taken for a lady-pedlar in the house of my relation.
* I'm very glad she's in,' I said. * That is quite a mistake !
Tell her it's Miss Mamie Wick, daughter of Colonel Joshua P.
Wick, of Chicago ; but if she's lying down, or anything, I can
drop in again."

He was away so long that I began to wonder if my relation
suspected me of dynamite in any form, and he came back look-
ing more anxious than ever. ' Mi-s. J^ortheris says she's very
sorry, miss, and will you please to walk up ? ' * Certainly,' I
said, ' but I hope I won't be disturbing her ! '

And I walked up.

It was a big square room, with a big square piano in it, and
long lace curtains, and two or three gilt-framed mirrors, and a
threat many old-fashioned ornaments under glass cases, and a
tinkliug glass chandelier in the middle. There were several

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

oil-pa' ntings on the walls — low-necked portraits and landscapes,
principally dark-green and black and yellow, with cows, and
quantities of lovely china. The furniture was red brocade, with
spindly legs, and there was a tall palm in a pot, which had
nothing to do with the rest of the room, by itself in a corner. I
remembered these things afterwards. At the time I noticed
chiefly two young persons with the pinkest cheeks I ever saw,

THEY SAT UP VERY NICELY IM1>EED

out of a picture book, sifting near a window. They were dressed
exactly alike, and their hair hung down their backs to their
waists, although they must have been seventeen ; and they sat
up very nicely indeed on two of the red chairs, one occupied
with worsted work, and the other apparently reading aloud to
her, though she stopped when I came in. I have seen something
since at Madame Tussaud's — bat I daresay you have often noticed

38 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

it yourself. And standing in the middle of the room, with her
hand on a centre-table, was Mrs. Portheris.

My first impression was that she had been standing there for
the last hour in that immovable way, with exactly that remark-
able expression ; and it struck me that she could go on standing
for the next without altering it, quite comfortably — she seemed
to be so solidly placed there, with her hand upon the table.
Though I wouldn't call Mrs. Portheris stout, she was massive —
rather, of an impressive build. Her skirt fell in a commanding
way from her waist, though it hitched up a little in front, which
spoiled the effect. She had broad square shoulders, and a lace
collar, and a cap with pink ribbons in it, and grey hair smooth
on each side of her face, and large well-cut features, and the ex-
pression I spoke of. I've seen the expression since among the
Egyptian antiquities in the British Museum, but I am unable to
describe it. ^ Armed neutrality ' is the only phrase that occurs to
me in connection with it, and that by no means does it justice.
For there was curiosity in it, as well as hostility and reserve —
but I won't try. And she kept her hand — it was her right hand
— upon the table.

' Miss Wich^' she said, bowing, and dwelling upon the name
with strong doubt. ' I believe I have a connection of that name
in America. Is your father's name Joshua Peter ? '

' Yes, Mrs. Portheris,' I replied ; ' and he says he is your
nephew. I've just come. How do you do?' I said this be-
cause it was the only thing the situation seemed to warrant me
saying.

' Oh, I am quite in my usual health, thank you ! My
nephew by marriage- — a former marriage — a very distant con-
nection.'

'Three thousand five hundred miles,' said I; *he lives in

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Chicago. You have never been over to see us, Mrs. Portheris.'
At this point 1 walked across to one of the spindly red chairs
and sat down. I thought then that she had forgotten to ask
me ; hut even now, when i know she hadn't, I am not at all

ip-s^

' THE OLD LADY GATHERED HERSELF UP AND LOOKED AT ME '

sorry T sat down, I find it is possible to stand up too much in
this country.

The old lady gathered herself up and looked at me. ' Where
are your father and mother ? ' she said.
4

40 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* In Chicago, Mrs. Portheris. All very well, thank you ! I
had a cable from them this morning, before I left the hotel.
Kind regards to you.'

Mrs. Portheris looked at me in absolute silence. Then she
deliberately arranged her back draperies and sat down too — not
in any amiable way, but as if the situation must be faced.

' Margaret and Isabel,* she said to the two young pink per-
sons, ' go to your rooms, dears ! ' And she waited till the
damsels, each with a little shy smile and blush, gathered up
their effects and went, before she continued the conversation.
As they left the room I observed that they wore short dresses,
buttoned down the back. It began to grow very interesting to
me, after the first shock of finding this kind of relation was
over. I found myself waiting for what was to come next with
the deepest interest. In America we are very fond of types —
perhaps because we have so few among ourselves — and it seemed
to me, as I sat there on Mrs. Portheris's spindly red chair, that
I had come into violent contact with a type of the most valuable
and pronounced description. Privately I resolved to stay as
long as I could, and lose no opportunity of observing it. And
my first observation was that Mrs. Portheris's expression was
changing — losing its neutrality and beginning to radiate active
opposition and stern criticism, with an uncompromising sense
of duty twisted in at the corners of the mouth. There was no
agitation whatever, and I thought with an inward smile of my
relation's nerves.

' Then I suppose,' said Mrs. Portheris — the supposition being
of the vaguest possible importance — 'that you are with a party
of Americans. It seems to be an American idea to go about in
hordes. I never could understand it — to me it would be most
obnoxious. How many are there of you ? '

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 4t

' One, Mrs. Porbheris — and I m the one. Poppa and momma
had set their hearts on coming. Poppa thought of getting up
an Anglo-American Soda Trust, and momma wanted particularly
to make your acquaintance — your various Christmas cards have
given us all such a charming idea of you — but at the last
minute something interfered with their plans and they had to
give it up. They told me to tell you how sorry they were.'

' Something interfered with their plans ! But nothing
interfered with your plans ! '

* Oh, no ; it was some political business of poppa's — nothing
to keep me ! *

' Then do I actually understand that your parents, of their
own free vnll, permitted you to cross the Atlantic alone ? '

' I hope you do, Mrs. Portheris ; but if it's not quite clear to
you, I don't mind explaining it again.'

' Upon my word ! And you are at an hotel — which hotel ? '

When 1 told Mrs. Portheris the Metropole, her indigna-
tion mounted to her cap, and one of the pink ribbons shook
violently.

'It is very American!' she said; and I felt that Mrs.
Portheris could rise to no more forcible a climax of disapproval.

But I did not mind Mrs. Portheris's disapproval ; in fact,
according to my classification of her, I should have been
disappointed if she had not disapproved — it would have been
out of character. So I only smiled as sweetly as I could, and
said, ^ So am I.'

' Is it not very expensive ? ' There was a note of angry
wonder as well as horror in this.

'I don't know, Mrs. Portheris. It's very comfortable.'

^ I never heard of such a thing in my life ! ' said Mrs.
Portheris. * It's — it's outrageous! It's — it's not customary!

42 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I call it criminal lenience on the part of my nephew to allow it.
He must have taken leave of his senses ! '

' Don't say anything nasty about poppa, Mrs. Portheris,' I
remarked ; and she paused.

' As to your mother '

' Momma is a lady of great intelligence and advanced views/
I interrupted, ' though she isn't very strong. And she is very
well acquainted with me.'

' Advanced views are your ruin in America ! May 1 ask
how you found your way here ? '

' On a 'bus, Mrs. Portheris — the red Hammersmith kind. On
two 'buses, rather, because I took the wrong one first, and went
miles straight away from here ; but I didn't mind it — I liked it.'

' In an omnibus I suppose you mean. You couldn't very
well be un it, unless you went on the top ! ' And Mrs. Portheris
smiled rather derisively.

' I did ; I went on the top,' I returned calmly. ' And it
was lovely.'

Mrs. Portheris very nearly lost her self-control in her effort
to grasp this enormity. Her cap bristled again, and the muscles
round her mouth twitched quite perceptibly.

' Careering all over London on the top of an omnibus ! ' she
ejaculated. ' Looking for my house ! And in that frock ! ' I
felt about ten when she talked about my * frock.' ' Couldn't
yoM feel that you were altogether too smart for such a position ? '

' No, indeed, Mrs. Portheris ! ' I replied, unacquainted with
the idiom. ' When I got down off the first omnibus in Cheap-
side 1 felt as if I hadn't been half smart enough ! '

She did not notice my misunderstanding. By the time T
had finished my sentence she was rapping the table with sup-
pressed excitement.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 43

' Miss Wick ! ' she said — and I had expected her to call me
Mamie, and say I was the image of poppa ! — ' you are the
daughter of my nephew — which can hardly be called a connec-
tion at all — but on that account I will give you a piece of
advice. The top of an omnibus is not a proper place for you —
I might say, for any connection of mine, however distant ! I
would not feel that I was doing my duty toward my nephew's
daughter if I did not tell you that you must not go there !
Don't on any account do it again ! It is a thing people never
do!'

' Do they upset ? ' I asked.

' They might. But apart from that, I must ask you, on
personal — on family grounds — always to go inside. In Chicago
you may go outside as much as you like, but in London '

'Oh, no ! ' I interrupted, ' I wouldn't for the world — in
Chicago ! ' which Mrs. Portheris didn't seem to understand.

I had stayed dauntlessly for half an hour — I was so much
interested in Mrs. Portheris — and I began to feel my ability to
prolong the interview growing weaker. I was sorry — I would
have given anything to have heard her views upon higher
education and female suffrage, and the Future State and the
Irish Question ; but it seemed impossible to get her thoughts
away from the appalling Impropriety which I, on her spindly
red chair, represented I couldn't blame her for that — I sup-
pose no impropriety bigger than a spider had ever got into her
drawing-room before. So I got up to go. Mrs. Portheris also
rose, with majesty. I think she wanted to show me what, if I
had been properly brought up, I might have expected reasonably
to develop into She stood in the midst of her red brocaded
farniture. with her hands folded, a model of what bringing up
(;an do if it is unflinchingly persevered in, and all the mirrors

44 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

reflected the ideal she presented. I felt, beside her, as if I had
never been brought up at all.

' Have you any friends in London ? ' she asked, with a very
weak solution of curiosity in her tone, giving me her hand to
facilitate my going, and immediately ringing the bell.

' I think not,' 1. said with decision.

^ But you will not continue to stay at the Metropole ! I heg
that you will not remain another day at the Metropole ! It is
not usual for young ladies to stay at hotels. You must go to
some place where only ladies are received, and as soon as you
are settled in one communicate at once with the rector of the
parish — alone as you are, that is quite ar necessary step. Lights
and fires will probably be extra.'

' I thought,' said I, ' of going to the Lady Guides' Associa-
tion — we have heard of it in Chicago through some friends,
who went round every day for three weeks with lady-guides,
and found it simply fascinating — and asking them to get me a
private family to board with. I particularly wished to see what
a private family is like in England.'

Mrs. Portheris frowned. ' I could never bring myself to
approve of lady-guides,' she said, ' There is something in the
idea that is altogether too — American.' 1 saw that the conver-
sation was likely to grow personal again, so I said: 'Well,
good-bye, Mrs. Portheris ! ' and was just going, when ' Stop ! *
said my relation, ' there is Miss Purkiss.'

' Is there ? * said 1.

* Certainly — the very thing ! Miss Purkiss is a very old
friend of mine, in reduced circumstances. I've known her
thirty-five years. She is an excellent woman, with the most
trustworthy views upon all matters. In so far as our widely
diiferent social positions have permitted. Miss Purkiss and 1

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

have been on terms, I may say, of sisterly intimacy since before
you were born. She has no occupation now, having lost her
position as secretary to the Home for Incurable Household Pets
through ill-health, and a very limited income. She lives in au
excessively modest way in Upper Baker Street — very convenient
to both the omnibuses and Underground — and if you cast in

*IT WAS MISS PUBKISS'S ADDRESS

your lot with hers while you are in England, Miss Wick ' — here
Mrs. Portheris grew almost demonstrative —'you need never
go out alone. I need not say that she is a lady, but her cir-
cumstances will probably necessitate her asking you rather
more than the usual rate for board and lodging, in compensa-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

tion for her chaperonage and companionship. All I can say is,
that both will be very thorough. I will give you Miss Purkiss's
address at ©nee, and if you drive there immediately you will be
sure to find her in. John, call a hansom ! ' And Mrs. Forth eris
went to her writing-table and wrote the address.

* There ! ' she said, folding it up and giving it to me. ' By
all means try to arrange with Miss Purkiss, and she, being a
friend of my own, some afternoon, perhaps — I must think about
it — I may ask her to bring you to tea ! Good-bye ! '

Vi.^^V^r:^

' SPENT HALF AN HOUR IN THE MIDST OF MY TRUNKS

As the door closed behind me I heard Mrs. Portheris's voice
on the landing. ' Margaret and Isabel,' it said, * you may come
down now ! '

* Ware to, miss ? ' said the driver.

' Hotel Metropole,' said I. And as we turned into Piccadilly

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 47

n little flutter of torn white paper went back on the wind to
Mrs. Portheris. It was Miss Purkiss's address.

After lunch I made careful notes of Mrs. Portheris, and
then spent half an hour in the midst of my trunks, looking in
the ' Board and Lodging ' rolumn of the ' Morning Post ' for
accommodation which promised to differ as radically as possible
i'ruiii Miss Purkiss's.

48 AN AMERICAS GIRL IN LONDON

^TY principal idea was to get away as soon as possible from the
A Metropole. So long as I was located there I was within the
grasp of my relation ; and as soon as she found out my insub-
ordination in the matter of her advice, I had no doubt whatever
that my relation would appear, with Miss Purkiss, all in rusty
black, behind her — a contingency I wished to avoid. Miss
Purkiss, I reflected, would probably be another type, and types
were interesting, but not to live with — my relation had con-
vinced me of that. And as to Mrs. Portheris herself, while I
had certainly enjoyed what I had been privileged to see of her,
her society was a luxury regarding which I felt that 1 could
evercise considerable self-denial. I did not really contemplate
being forced into Miss Purkiss and Upper Baker Street by Mrs.
Portheris against my will, not for a moment ; but I was afraid
the situation would be presented on philanthropic grounds,
which would be disagreeable. Miss Purkiss as a terror I felt
equal to, but Miss Purkiss as an object of charity might cow me.
And Miss Purkiss in any staying capacity was not, I felt, what
I came to Great Britain to experience. So I studied the
columns of the ' Morning Post ' diligently for a haven of refuge
from Miss Purkiss.

I found it difficult to make a selection, the havens were so
very different, and all so superior. 1 believe you talk about the
originality of American advertising. I never in my life saw a

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 49

newspaper page to compare in either imagination or vocabulary
with the one I scanned that day at the Metropole. It seemed
that I could be taken all over London, at prices varying from
one ' g.' to three ' gs. ' per week, although the surprising
cheapness of this did not strike me until I had laboriously
calculated in dollars and cents the exact value of a ' g.' I
know now that it is a term of English currency exclusively
employed in Bond Street, Piccadilly, Regent and Oxford Streets
— they never give you a price there in any other. And the
phrases descriptive of the various homes which were awaiting
me were so beautiful. ' Excellent meat breakfast,' ' a liberal
and charmingly-refined home,' ' a mother's devoted super-
vision,' ' fresh young society,' ' fashionably situated and ele-
gantly furnished,' 'just vacated by a clergyman,' 'foreign
languages understood ' — which would doubtless include American
— ' a lofty standard of culture in this establishment.' I
wondered if they kept it under glass. I was struck with the
number of people who appeared in print with ' offerings ' of a
domiciliary nature. ' A widow lady of cheerful temperament

and artistic tastes offers ' ' The daughter of a late Civil

Servant with a larger house than she requires offers ' This

must have been a reference put in to excite sympathy, other-
wise, what was the use of advertising the gentleman after he was
dead ? Even from the sympathetic point of view, I think it was
a mistake, for who would care to go and settle in a house the
minute the crape was off the door ? Nobody.

Not only original advertisements of the kind I was looking
for, but original advertisements of kinds I wasn't looking for,
appealed to my interest and took up my time that afternoon.
' Would any one feel disposed to lend an actress five pounds ? ^
* Temporary home wanted, with a family of quiet habits, in a

50 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

healthful neighbourhood, who can give best references, for a
Persian cat.' ' An elderly country rector and his wife, in town
for a month's holiday, would be glad of a little pleasant society.'
' A young subaltern, of excellent family, in unfortunate circum-
stances, implores the loan of a hundred pounds to save him from
ruin. Address, care of his solicitors.' ' A young gentleman,
handsome, an orphan, of good education and agreeable address,
wishes to meet with elderly couple with means (inherited) who
would adopt him. Would make himself pleasant in the house.
Church of England preferred, but no serious objection to Non-
conformists.'

We have nothing like this in America. It was a revelation
to me — a most private and intimate revelation of a social body
that I had always been told no outsider could look into without
the very best introductions. Of course, there was the veil of
'A. B.' and ' Lurline,' and the solicitors' address, but that seemed
as thin and easily torn as the ' Morning Post,' and mach more
transparent, showing all the struggling mass, with its hands
outstretched, on the other side. And yet I have heard English
people say how ' personal ' our newspapers are !

My choice was narrowed considerably by so many of the
addresses being other places than London, which I thought
very peculiar in a London newspaper. Having come to see
London, I did not want to live in Putney, or Brixton, or
Chelsea, or Maida Vale. I supposed vaguely that there must be
cathedrals or Roman remains, or attractions of some sort, in
these places, or they would not be advertised in London ; but
for the time being, at any rate, I intended to content myself
with the capital. So 1 picked out two or three places near the
British Museum — I should be sure, I thought, to want to
spend a great deal of time there — and went to see about them.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 51

They were as much the same as the advertisements were
different, especially from the outside. From the outside they
were exactly alike — so much so that I felt, after I had seen them
all, that if another boarder in the same row chose to approach
me on any occasion, and say that she was me, I should be entirely
unable to contradict her. This in itself was prejudicial. In
America, if there is one thing we are particular about, it is our
identity. Without our identities we are in a manner nowhere.
I did not feel disposed to run the risk of losing mine the minute
I arrived in England, especially as I knew that it is a thing
Americans who stay here for any length of time are extremely
apt to do. Nevertheless, I rang the three door-bells I left the
Metropole with the intention of ringing ; and there were some
minor differences inside, although my pen insists upon record-
ing the similarities instead. I spent the same length of time
upon the doorstep, for instance, before the same tumbled and
apologetic-looking servant girl appeared, wiping her hands upon
her apron, and let me into the same little dark hall, with the
same interminable stairs twisting over themselves out of it, and
the smell of the same dinner accompanying us all the way up.
To be entirely just, it was a wholesome dinner, but there was so
much of it in the air that I very soon felt as if I was dining
unwarrantably, and ought to pay for it. In every case the stair-
carpet went up two flights, and after that there was oilcloth,
rather forgetful as to its original pattern, and much frayed as to
its edges — and after that, nothing. Always pails and brushes on
the landings — what there is about pails and brushes that should
make them such a distinctive feature of boarding-house landings
I don't know, but they are. Not a single elevator in all three.
1 asked the servant-girl in the first place, about half-way up the
fourth flight, if there was no elevator? ' No, indeed, miss,' she said ;

52 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' I wishes there was ! But them's things you won't find but very
seldom 'ere. We've 'ad American ladies 'ere before, and they
alius asks for 'em, but they soon finds out they ain't to be 'ad,
miss.'

Now, how did she know I was an 'American lady'? I
didn't really mind about the elevator, but this I found annoy-
ing, in spite of my desire to preserve my identity. In
the course of conversation with this young woman, I dis-
covered that it was not my own possibly prospective dinner
that I smelt on the stairs. I asked about the hour for meals.
' Aou, we never gives meals, miss ! ' she said. ' It's only them
boardin' 'aouses as gives meals in! Mrs. Jones, she only lets
apartments. But there's a very nice restirong in Tottinim
Court Road, quite convenient, an' your breakfast, miss, you
couldj 'ave cooked 'ere, but, of course, it would be hextra, miss.'

Then I remembered all I had read about people in liondon
living in ' lodgings,' and having their tea and sugar and butter
and eggs consumed unrighteously by the landlady, who was
always represented as a buxom person in calico, with a smut t)n
her face, and her arms akimbo, and an awful hypocrite. For a
minute I thought of trying it, for the novelty of the experience,
but the loneliness of it made me abandon the idea. I could
not possibly content myself with the society of a coal-scuttle and
two candlesticks, and the alternative of going round sightseeing
by myself. Nor could I in the least tell whether Mrs. Jones
was agreeable, or whether I could expect her to come up and
visit with me sometimes in the evenings ; besides, if she always
wore smuts and had her arms akimbo, I shouldn't care about
asking her. In America a landlady might as likely as not be a
member of a Browning Society, and give ' evenings,' but that
kind of landlady seems indigenous to the United States. And

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 53

after Mrs. Portheris, I felt that I required the companionship of
something human.

In the other two places I saw the landladies themselves in
their respective drawing-rooms on the second floor. One of
the drawing-rooms was ' draped ' in a way that was quite
painfully aesthetic, considering the paucity of the draperies.
The flower-pots were draped, and the lamps; there were
draperies round the piano-legs, and round the clock ; and where
there were not draperies there were bows, all of the same
scanty description. The only thing that had not made an effort
to clothe itself in the room was the poker, and by contrast it
looked very nude. There were some Japanese ideas around the
room, principally a paper umbrella ; and a big painted palm-leaf
fan from India made an incident in one corner. I thought,
even before I saw the landlady, that it would be necessary to
live up to a high standard of starvation in that house, and she
confirmed the impression. She was a Miss Hippy, a short,
stoutish person, with very smooth hair, thin lips, and a nose like
an angle of the Pyramids, preternaturally neat in her appear-
ance, with a long gold watch-chain round her neck. She came
into the room in a way that expressed reduced circumstances
and a protest against being obliged to do it. I feel that the
particular variety of smile she gave me with her ' Good
morning ! ' — although it was after 4 p.m. — was one she kept
for the use of boarders only, and her whole manner was an
interrogation. When she said, 'Is it for yourself ? ' in answer
to my question about rooms, I felt that I was undergoing
a cross-examination, the result of which Miss Hippy was men-
tally tabulating.

' We }wjV& a few rooms,' said Miss Hippy, ' certainly.' Then
she cast her eyes upon the floor, and twisted her fingers up in

54 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

lier watch-chain, as if in doubt. * Shall you be long in
London ? '

1 said I couldn't tell exactly.

' Have you — are you a professional of any kind ?' inquired
Miss Hippy. *Not that I object to professional ladies — they
are often very pleasant. Madame Solfreno resided here for
several weeks while she was retrenching ; but Madame Solfreno
was, of course, more or less an exceptional woman. She did
not care — at least, while she was retrenching — for the society of
other professionals, and she said that was the great advantage of
my house — none of them ever would come here. Still, as I say,
I have no personal objection to professionals. In fact, we have
had head-ladies here ; and real ladies, I must say, I have gene-
rally found them. Although hands, of course, I would not
take ! '

I said I was not a professional.

* Oh ! ' said Miss Hippy, pitiably baffled. * Then, perhaps,
you are not a — a young lady. That is, of course, one can see
you are that ; but you are — you are married, perhaps ? '

* I am not married, madame,' I said. ' Have you any rooms
to let ? '

Miss Hippy rose, ponderingly. * I might as well show you
what we have^' she said.

'I think,' I replied, 'that you might as well. Otherwise I
will not detain you any longer.' At which, curiously enongli,
all hesitation vanished from Miss Elippy's manner, and she
showed me all her rooms, and expatiated upon all their advan-
tages with a single eye to pej-suading me to occupy one of them.
So comprehensively voluble was she, indeed, and so impene-
trably did she fill up the door with her broad person when we
came down again, that I found no loophole of escape anywhere,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON $5

and was obliged to descend to equivocal measures. 'Have
you any rooms, Miss Hippy,' I inquired, * on the ground
floor?*

' That,' returned Miss Hippy, as if I had put her the only
possible question that she was not prepared for, ' I have not. A
gentleman from the West Indies ' — Miss Hippy went on im-
pressively —' hardly ever without inflammatory rheumatism,
which you will admit makes stairs an impossibility for him,
occupies my only ground-floor bedroom — just off the dining-
room ! *

' That is unfortunate,' I said, * since I think in this house I
would prefer a room on the ground- floor. But if I decide to
take one of the others I will let you know. Miss Hippy.'

Miss Hippy's countenance fell, changed, and again became
expressive of doubt — this time offensively.

* I've not asked for any references,' though, of course, it is my
custom '

* You will receive references,' I interrupted, * as soon as you
require them. Good afternoon ! ' We were standing in the
hall, and Miss Hippy, from force of circumstances, was obliged
to unfasten the door ; but I did not hear from her, as I passed
out into the street, any responsive * Good afternoon ! *

My third experience was quite antipodal to Miss Hippy.
Her parlour was Japanesy, too, in places, but it was mostly
chipped ; and it had a great many rather soiled fat cushions in
it, quite a perceptible odour of beer and tobacco, and a pair of
gentleman's worked slippers under the sofa. The atmosphere
was relaxing after Miss Hippy, and suggested liberality of all
sorts ; but the slippers, to say nothing of the odours, which
might have floated in from other regions, made it impossible. T
waited for the lady of the house a conscious hypocrite.
6

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

She came in at last voluminously, rather out of breath but
with great warmth of manner. ' Do sit down ! ' she said.

* 1 WAITED FOR THE LADY OF THE HOUSE A CONSCIOUS HYPOCRITE '

*Now, it does seem strange ! Only las' night, at the table, we
were sayin' how much we wanted one more lady boarder ! You

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON $7

see, I've got four young gentlemen in the City here, and of us
ladies there's just four, so we sometimes get up a little dance
amongst ourselves in the evenin's. It amuses the young people,
and much better wear out carpets than pay doctors' bills, say I.
Now, I generally play, an' that leaves only three ladies for the
four gentlemen, you see ! Now, isn't it a curious coincidence,'
she said, leaning forward with a broad and confident smile,
' that you should have come in to-day, j ust after we were sayin'
how nice it would be if there were enough to get up the
Lancers ! *

I bowed my acknowledgments.

' You want a room for yourself, I suppose,' my hostess went
on, cheerfully. ' My top flat, I'm sorry to say, is every bit
taken. There isn't an inch of room up there ; but I've got a
beautiful little apartment on the ground-floor you could use as
a bed-sittin' room, lookin' out on what green grass we have.
I'll show it to you ! ' — and she led me across the hall to a dis-
mantled cupboard, the door of which she threw open. ' That,'
she said, ' you could have for twenty-five shillin's a week. Of
course, it is small, but then — so is the price ! ' and she smiled the
cheerful, accustomed smile that went with the joke. ' I've another
up here,' she said, leading the way to the first landing, ' rather
bigger — thirty shillin's. You see, they're both bein' turned out
at present, so it's rather unfavourable ! ' — and the lady drew in
the deep breath she had lost going up the stairs.

I could think of only one thing to say : ' I believe you said
your top flat was all taken,' I remarked amiably. She was such
a good-natured soul, I couldn't bear to say anything that would
hurt her feelings. ' That is unfortunate. I particularly wanted
a room in a top flat. But if I decide on one of these others I'll
let you know ! ' There were two fibs, and diametrically opposed

58 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

fibs, within half an hour, and I know it's excessively wrong to
fib ; but, under the circumstances, what could you say ?

' Do, miss. And, though I wouldn't for the world persuade
you, I certainly hope you will, for I'm sure you'd make a very
pleasant addition to our party. I'll just let you out myself.*
And she did.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 59

I DROVE straight back to the M6tropole, very thankful indeed
that that was evidently the thing to do next. If there had
been no evident thing to do next, I was so depressed in my mind
that I think I would have taken a ticket to Liverpool that night,
and ray passage to New York on the first steamer that was leaving.
I won't say what I did in the cab, but I spoilt a perfectly new
veil doing it. London seemed dingy and noisy, and puzzling
and unattractive, and always going to rain. I thought of our
bright clear air in Chicago, and our nice clean houses, and our
street-cars, and our soda-water fountains, and poppa and momma,
and always knowing everybody and what to do under every
circumstance ; and all the way to the Metropole I loved Chicago
and I hated London. But there was the Metropole, big and solid
and luxurious, and a fact I understood ; and there was the nice
respectful housemaid on my corridor — it would be impossible to
convince you how different servants are with us — and a delight-
ful little fire in my room, and a tin pitcher of hot water smoking
in the basin, and a sort of air of being personally looked aftei
that was very comforting to my nerves. While I was getting
ready for dinner I analysed my state of mind, and blamed my-
self severely, for I found that I could not justify one of the dis-
ai^reeable things I had been thinking in any philosophical way.
I had simply allowed the day's experiences, capped by my rela-
tion in the morning, to overcome my entire nerve-system, which

6o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

was childish and unreasonable. I wished then, and often since*
that Providence had given us a more useful kind of nerve-
system on our side of the Atlantic — something constructed
solidly, on the British plan ; and just as I was wishing that there
came a rap. A rap has comparatively no significance until it
comes at your bedroom door when you are alone in a big hotel
two thousand five hundred miles from home. Then it means
something. This one meant two cards on a salver and a mes-
sage. One of the cards read : ' Mrs. Cummers Portheris,' wit h
' Miss PurJciss ' written under it in pencil ; the other, ' Mr.
Charles Mafferton,' with ' 49, Hertford Street, May fair,' in one
corner, and ' The Isthmian Club ' in the other.

' Is she there now ? ' I asked the servant in acute suspense.

' No, miss. The ladies, they called about 'alf-past three,
and we was to say that one lady was to be 'ere again to-morrow
mornin' at ten, miss. The gentleman, he didn't leave no mes-

Then my heart beat again, and joyfully, for I knew that I
had missed my relation and Miss Purkiss, and that the way of
escape was still open to me, although ten o'clock in the morning
was rather early to be obliged to go out. I must say I thought
it extremely foolish of Miss Purkiss to have mentioned the hour
— it was like a fox making an appointment with a rabbit, a
highly improbable thing for the rabbit to keep. And I went
downstairs feeling quite amused and happy, and determined to
stay amused and happy. My unexpected reward for this came
at dinner, when I discovered my neighbours to be two delight-
ful ladies from St. Pa;ul, Minn., with whom I conversed sociably
there, and later in the drawing-room. They had known Dr.
Oliver Wendell Holmes ; but what to my eyes gave them an
added charm was their amiable readiness to know me. 1 was

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 6i

made to promise that I would send them my address when I
was settled, and to this day I suffer from unquieted pangs of
conscience because I failed to keep my word.

By ten o'clock next morning I was in Cockspur Street, Pall
Mall, looking for the * Lady Guides' Association.' The name in
white letters on the window struck me oddly when I found it.
The idea, the institution it expressed, seemed so grotesquely of
to-day there in the heart of old London, where almost everything
you see talks of orthodoxy and the approval of the centuries.
Ithad the impertinence that a new building has going up among
your smoky old piles of brick and mortar. You will understand
my natural sympathy with it. The minute I went in I felt at
home.

There were several little desks in several little adjoining,
compartments, with little muslin curtains in front of them, and
ladies and ink-bottles inside, like a row of shrouded canary-
cages. T^^o or three more ladies, without their things on, were
running round outside, and several others, with their things on,
were being attended to. I saw only one little man, who was
always getting out of the ladies' way, and didn't seem properly
to belong there. There was no label attached, so 1 couldn't tell
what use they made of him, but I should like to have known.

The desks were all lettered plainly — one ' Lady Guides,' the
next * Tickets for the Theatre,' and so on ; but, of course, I went
to the first one to inquire, without taking any notice of that —
people always do. I think, perhaps, the lady was more polite
in referring me to the proper one than the man would have been.
She smiled, and bowed encouragingly as she did it, and explained
particularly, ' the lady with the eyeglasses and her hair done up
high — do you see ? ' I saw, and went to the right lady. She
smiled, too, in a real winning way, looking up from her entry-

62 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

book, and leaning forward to hear what I had to say. Then she
came into my confidence, as it were, at once. ' What you want,'
she said, ' is a boarding-house or private hotel. We have all
the best private hotels on our books, but in your case, being
alone, what I should advise would be a thoroughly well-recom-
mended, first-class boarding-house.'

I said something about a private family — ' Or a private
family,' added the lady, acquiescently. ' Now, we can give you
whichever you prefer. Suppose,' she said, with the kindly
interested counsel of good-fellowship, dropping her voice a little,
* I write you out several addresses of both hinds^ then you can
just see for yourself — and the lady looked at me over her eye-
glasses most agreeably.

' Why, yes ! ' I said. * I think that's a very good idea ! '
' Well now, just wait a miuute ! ' the lady said, turning over
the pages of another big book. * There's a great deal, as you
probably know, in locality in London. We must try aud get
you something in a nice locality. Piccadilly, for instance, is a
very favourite locality — I think we have something in Half-
Moon Street '

* Gracious ! ' I said. * No ! not Half-Moon Street, please. I
— I've been there. I don't like that locality ! '

* Really ! ' said the lady, with surprise. ' Well, you wouldn't
believe what the rents are in Half-Moon Street ! But we can
easily give you something else — the other side of the Park,
perhaps ! '

* Yes,' I said, earnestly. * Quite the other side, if you
please ! '

* Well,' returned the lady, abstractedly running her finger
down the page, ' there's Mrs. Pragge, in Holland Park Gardens
— have you any objection to children ? — and Miss Camblewell,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 63

in Lancaster Gate, very clean and nice. I think we'll put iliem
down. And then two or three private ones — excuse me one
minute. There ! I think among those/ with sudden gravity,
' you ought to find something suitable at from two to three-and-
a-half guineas per week ; but if you do not, be sure to come in
again. We always like to give our clients satisfaction.' The
lady smiled again in that pardonable, endearing way ; and I was
so pleased with her, and with myself, and with the situation, and
felt such warm comfort as the result of the interview, that I
wanted badly to shake hands with her when I said Good-morn-
ing. But she was so engaged that I couldn't, and had to content
myself with only saying it very cordially. As I turned to
go I saw a slightly blank expression come over her face, and
she coughed with some embarrassment, leaning forward as if to
speak to me again. But I was too near the door, so one of the
ladies who were running about detained me apologetically.

* There is a — a charge,' she said, ' of two-and-sixpence. You
did not know.' So I went back uncomfortably and paid.

* Thanks, yes ! ' said the lady in the cage. ' T<^o-and-six ! No,
that is two shillings, a florin, you see — and that is four — it's
half-a-crown we want, isn't it ? ' very amiably, considering all the
trouble I was giving her. ' Perhaps you are not very well
accustomed to our English currency yet,' as I finally counted
out one shilling, two sixpences, a threepence, and six half-
pennies. If there is a thing in this country that needs reform-
ing more than the House of Lords — but there, it isn't to be
supposed that you would like my telling you about it. At all
events, T managed in the end to pay my very proper fee to the
Lady Guides' Association, and I sincerely hope that any of its
members who may happen to read this chapter will believe that I
never endeavoured to evade it. The slight awkwardness of the

64 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

mistake turned out rather pleasantly for me, because it led rae
into further conversation with the lady behind the eyeglasses,
in which she asked me whether I wouldn't like to look over
their establishment. I said Yes, indeed ; and one of the outside
ladies, a very capable-looking little person, with a round face
and short, curly hair, was told off to take me upstairs. I
hadn't been so interested for a long time. There was the club-
room, where ladies belonging to the Association could meet or
make appointments with other people, or write letters or read
the papers, and the restaurant, where they could get anything
they wanted to eat. I am telling you all this because I've met
numbers of people in London who only know enough about tlie
Lady Guides' Association to smile when it is mentioned, and to
say, ' Did you go there .? ' in a tone of great amusement, which,
considering it is one of your own institutions, strikes me as
curious. And it is such an original, personal, homelike institu-
tion, like a little chirping busy nest between the eaves of the
great unconcerned City offices and warehouses, that it is interest-
ing to know more about than that, I think. The capable
little lady seemed quite proud of it as she ushered me from one
room into the next, and especially of the bedrooms, which were
divided from one another by pretty chintz hangings, and where
at least four ladies, ^ arriving strange from the country, and else-
where,' could be tucked away for the night. That idea struck
me as perfectly sweet, and I wished very sincerely I had known
of it before. It seemed to offer so many more advantages than
the Metropole. Of course, I asked any number of questions
about the scope and working of the Association, and the little
lady answered them all with great fluency. It was nice to hear
of such extended usefulness— how the Lady Guides engage
governesses, or servants, or seats at the theatre, and provide

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 65

dinners and entertainments, and clothes to wear at them, and
suitable manners ; and take care of children by the day — I ao
not remember whether the little lady said tliey undertook to
bring them up — and furnish eyes and understanding, certified,
to all visitors in London, at ' a fixed tariff' — all except gentle-
men unaccompanied by their families. ' Such clients,' the little
lady said, with a shade of sadness, I fancied, that there should
be any limitation to the benevolence of the Association, ' the
Lady Guide is compelled to decline. It is a great pity — we
have so many gentleman-applicants, and there would be, of
course, no necessity for sending young lady -guides out with
them — we have plenty of elderly ones, widows and so on ; but '
— and here the little lady grew confidentially deprecating — ' it
is thought best not to. You see, it would get into the papers,
and the papers might chaff, and, of course, in our position we
can't afford to be made ridiculous. But it is a great pity ! ' — and
the little lady sighed again. I said I thought it was, and asked
if any special case had been made of any special entreaty.
* One,' she admitted, in a justifying tone. ' A gentlemau from
Japan. He told us he never would have come to England if he
had not heard of our Association, being a perfect stranger, with-
out a friend in the place.'

' And unacquainted with English prejudices,' I put in.

' Quite so. And what could we do ? '

' What did you do ? ' I inquired.

' We sent two /' responded the little lady, triumphing once
more over the situation. ' Nobody could say an<//thing to that.
And he was such a pleasant little man, and thanked us so
cordially.'

' Did you find him intelligent ? ' I asked.

* Very.' But the little lady's manner was growing rather

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

fidgety, and it occurred to me that perhaps I was taking more
information than I was entitled to for two-and-six. So I
went reluctantly downstairs, wishing there was something else

WE SENT TWO

that the lady-guides could do for me. A little black-eyed woman
down there was giving some very businesslike orders. ' Half
a day's shopping ? I should say send Miss Stuart Saville. And

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 67

tell her to be very particular about her accounts. Has Mrs.
Mason got that private ward yet ? '

* That,' said my little cicerone, in a subdued tone, * is our
manageress. She planned the whole thing. Wonderful head ! '

' Is that so ? ' I remarked. * I should like to congratulate
her.'

* I'm afraid there isn't time,' she returned, looking flurried ;

* and the manageress doesn't approve of anybody wasting it.
Will you write your name in our visitors' book ? '

' With pleasure,' I said ; * and I'll come again whenever I
feel that I want anything.' And I wrote my name — badly, of
course, as people always do in visitors' books, but with the
lively satisfaction people always experience in writing their
names — why, I've never been able to discover. I passed the
manageress on my way out. She was confronting a pair of ladies,
an old and a young one, in black, who leaned on their parasols
with an air of amiable indecision, and falteringly addressed her :

* I had a day and a half last week,' one of them said, rather

weakly; 4s there? — do you want me for anything this ? '

The manageress looked at her with some impatience. 'If I
want you I'll send for you, Miss Gypsum,' she said. The door
closed upon me at that moment, so I don't know how Miss
Gypsum got away.

As for me, I walked through Cockspur Street and through
Waterloo Place, and so into Piccadilly, reflecting upon Mrs.
Pragge, and Miss Camblewell, and all their uncertainties.
Standing in the lee of a large policeman on one of your valuable
iron refuges in the middle of the street, a flounced black-and-
white parasol suddenly shut down almost in my face. The lady
belonging to it leaned over her carriage and said : ' How d'ye
do, Miss ? Dear me, how stupid I am about names ! Miss

68 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Chica go-young-lady- who- ran-away-witliout-getting-my -address?
Now I've found you, just pop in '

' I must ask you to drive on, madam,' the policeman said.

' As soon as this young lady has popped in. There ! Now,
my dear, what did the relation say ? I've been longing to
know.'

And before I realised another thing I was rolling up Regent
Street statefully in the carringe of Mrs. 'Lorquilin.

AJS AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

VII

EE you going there now ? ' Mrs. Torquilin went on.
' Because I'm onlj out for an airing, I can drop you

anywhere yoa like.'
' Oh, by no
means, thank you,
Mrs. Torquilin,' I
,_^_^^_ , said ; ' I've been

^^ShHIIHBJ^^T 'd^^ there already.'

I CAN DROP YOU ANYWHERE YOU LIKE

70 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Mrs. Torquilin looked at me with an extraordinary expres-
sion. On top it was conscientiously shocked, underneath it was
extremely curious, amused by anticipation, and, through it all,
kindly.

* You don't get on,' she said. * What did I tell you ?
"Mark my words," I said to Charlie Mafferton, "that child
knows nothing of what is ahead of her ! " But pray go on.
What happened ? '

I went on, and told Mrs. Torquilin what happened a good
deal as I have told you, but I am afraid not so properly,
because she was very much amused; and I suppose if the
story of my interview with Mrs. Portheris excited any feeling in
your mind, it was one of sympathy for me. At least, that was
what I intended. But I was so happy in Mrs. Torquilin's
carriage, and so delighted to be talking to somebody I knew,
that I made as funny an account of the tender greetings of my
relation as I could, and it lasted all the way to the M^tropole,
where I was to be dropped. I referred to her always as ' my
relation,* because Mrs. Torquilin seemed to enjoy the expression.
Incidentally, too, I told her about my plans, and showed her
the addresses I had from the lady-guide, and she was kind
enough to say that if I did not find them satisfactory I must let
her know, and she could send me to a person of her acquaintance,
where I should be * very comfy, dear ' ; and I believed her. ' You
see,' she said, * I should like to take a little interest in your
plans, because you seem to be the only really American girl
I've come upon in the whole course of my travels. The New York
ones were all English imitations — I had no patience with them.'

' Oh ! ' I responded, cheerfully, ' that's only on the outside,
Mrs. Torquilin. If you ran down the Stars and Stripes I guess
you would find them pretty American.*

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 71

* Well, yes,' Mrs. Torqiiilin admitted, ' I remember that was
the case ' ; but just then we stopped in front of the Metropole,
and I begged her to come in and lunch with me. ' Dear me,
child, no ; I must be off ! ' she said ; but I used all the persuasion
I could, and represented how dreadfully lonely it was for me,
and Mrs. Torquilin hesitated. At the moment of her hesitation
there floated out from the dining-room a most appetising
suggestion of fried soles. What small matters contribute to
important results ! I don't know anything that I have more
cause to be grateful to than that little wandering odour. For
Mrs. Torquilin, encountering it, said, with some feeling, ' Poor
child. I've no doubt it is lonely for you. Perhaps I really
ought to cheer you up a bit —I'll come ! '

And Mrs. Torquilin and I pursued the wandering odour into
the dining-room.

We had a particularly good lunch, and we both enjoyed it
immensely, though Mrs. Torquilin made a fuss about my ordering
champagne, and said it was simply ruinous, and I really ought to
have somebody to look after me. ' By the way,' she said,
' have you seen anything of the Maffertons ? ' I told her that
Mr. Mafferton had left his card the afternoon before, but I was
out. 'You were out?' said Mrs. Torquilin. 'What a pity ! '
I said no ; I wasn't very sorry, because I felt so unsettled in my
mind that I was sure I couldn't work myself up to an intelligent
discussion of any of Mr. Mafferton's favourite subjects, and he
would hardly have found much pleasure in his visit. ' Oh ! I
think he would,' said Mrs. Torquilin. ' What on earth has
" intelligent discussion " to do with it ? I know the Maffertons
very well,' she went on, looking at me quite sharply. ' Excel-
lent family — cousins of Lord Mafferton of Mafferton. Charlie
has enough, but not too much, I should say. However, that's
G

72 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

neither here nor there, for he has no expensive habits, to tmj
knowledge.'

' Just imagine,' I said, ' his being cousin to a lord ! And
yet he's not a bit haughty ! Have you ever seen the lord, Mrs.
Torquilin ? '

' Bless the child, yes ! Gone down to dinner with him more
than once I Between ourselves,' said Mrs. Turquilin, confi-
dentially, ' he's an old brute — neither more nor less ! But one
can't be rude to the man. What he'll have to say to it heaven
only knows! But Charlie is quite capable of snapping his
fingers at him. Do have one of these ices.'

1 was immensely interested. ' What has Mr. Mafferton been
doing ? ' I asked.

' IVe no reason to believe he's done it yet,' said Mrs. Tor-
quilin, a little crossly I thought. ' Perhaps he won't.'

' I'm sure I hope not,' I returned. ' Mr. Mafferton is so
nice that it would be a pity if he got into trouble with his rela-
tions, especially if one of them is a lord.'

' Then don't let him ! ' said Mrs. Torquilin, more crossly than
before.

' Do you think I would have any influence with him ? ' I
asked her. ' I should doubt it very much. Mr. Maflf'erton
doesn't strike me as a person at all susceptible to ladies'
influence. But, if I knew the circumstances, 1 might
try.'

' Oh, come along, child ! ' Mrs. Torquilin returned, folding up
the napkin. ' You're too stupid. I'll see the Mpfiertons in a
day or two, and I'll tell them what I think of you. Is there
nothing else you'll have ? Then let us depart, and make room for
somebody else.' And I followed Mrs. Torquilin out of the room
with a vague consciousness that she had an important voice in

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

the management of the hotel, and had been kind enough to give
me my lunch.

My friend did not take leave of me in the hall. ' I'd like to
see the place,' she said. ' Take me up into the drawing-
room.'

Mrs. Torquilin admired the drawing-room very much.
' Sumptuous ! ' she said, ' Sumptuous ! ' And as I walked

' ONE OF THE LADIES WAS SITTING BOLT UPKIGHT, WITH A STEKN, MAJESTIC EYE '

round it with her I felt a particular kind of pleasure in being
the more familiar with it of the two, and a little pride, too, in
its luxury, which I had always been told was specially designed
to suit Americans. I was so occupied with these feelings and
with Mrs. Torquilin's remarks, that I did not observe two ladies
on a sofa at the end of the room until we were almost in front
of them. Then I noticed that one of the ladies was sitting bolt
upright, with a stern, majestic eye fixed full upon me, apparently

74 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

frozen with indignation ; I also noticed that it was Mrs.
Portheris. The other lady, in rusty black, as I knew she would
be, occupied the farther end of the sofa, very much wilted
indeed.

' Miss Wick,' said Mrs. Portheris, portentously, standing up,
^ I have been shopping in the interval, but my friend Miss
Purkiss — this is Miss Purkiss ; Miss Purkiss, this is Miss Wick,
the connection from Chicago whom you so kindly consented to
try to befriend — Miss Purkiss has been here since ten o'clock.
You will excuse her rising — she is almost, I might say, in a state
of collapse ! '

I turned round to Mrs. Torquilin.

' Mrs. Torquilin,' I said, ' this is my relation, Mrs. Portheris.
Mrs. Portheris — Mrs. Torquilin.' In America we always intro-
duce.

But I was astonished at the change in Mrs. Torquilin. She
seemed to have grown quite two inches taller, and she was re-
garding Mrs. Portheris through a pair of eyeglasses on a stick
in the most inexplicable manner, with her mouth set very firmly
indeed in a sort of contemptuous smile.

' Mrs. Cummers Portheris ! ' she said. * Yes, I think Mrs.
Cummers Portheris knows me. You did not tell me, dear, that
Mrs. Portheris was your relation — but you need not tear that I
shall think any the less of you for that.'

' Heppy,' said Mrs. Portheris, throwing up her chin, but
looking distinctly nervous, ' your temper is much the same, I am
sorry to see, as it always was.'

Mrs. Torquilin opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again
resolutely, with an expression of infinite disdain. Then, to my
surprise, she took a chair, in a way that told me distinctly of
her intention not to desert me. I felt at the moment that I

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 75

would have given anything to be deserted — the situation was
so very embarrassing. The only thing I could think of to do
was to ask Miss Purkiss if she and Mrs. Portheris wouldn't
have some lunch. Miss Purkiss looked quite cheerful for a
moment, and began to unbutton her glove ; but her countenance
fell when my unfeeling relation forbade her with a look, and said :

* Thank you, no, Miss Wick ! Having waited so long, we can
easily manage without food a little longer. Let us get to our
arrangements. Perhaps Miss Purkiss will tell Miss Wick
what she has to offer her.' Mrs. Portheris was evidently
trying to ignore Mrs. Torquilin, and sat offensively, and side-
ways to her ; but she could not keep the apprehension out of
her eye.

' Certainly ! ' I said ; ' but Miss Purkiss must have some-
thing.' I was determined to decline, but I wished to do it as
mercifully as possible. ' Tell somebody,* I said to a servant who
had come up to poke the fire, ' to bring up some claret and
crackers.'

' Biscuits, child,' put in Mrs. Torquilin, 'is what you mean.
Biscuits the young lady means ' — to the servant — ' and be
sharp about it, for we want to go out immediately.* Then —

* May I ask what arrangements you were thinking of offering
Miss Wick ? ' — to Miss Purkiss.

Miss Purkiss began, quaveringly, that she had never done
such a thing in her life before, but as Mrs. Portheris particularly
wished it

' For your own good, Jane,' interrupted Mrs. Portheris ;

* entirely for your own good. T don't call that gratitude.'

Miss Purkiss hastily admitted that it was for her own good,
of course, and that Mrs. Portheris knew her far too well to
believe for a moment that she was not grateful; but I could

76 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

have a nice back bedroom on the second floor, and the use of her
sitting-room all day, and I, being recommended by Mrs. Pur-
theris, she wouldn't think of many extras. Well, if there were
fires, lights, the use of the bath and piano, boots, and friends to
meals, that would be all,

* It is quite impossible!* said Mrs. Torquilin. 'I'm sorry
you had the trouble of coming. Tn the first place, I fear my
young friend^' with emphasis and a cursory glance at Mrs. Por-
theris's chair, ' would find it dull in Upper Baker Street. In
the second' — Mrs. Torquilin hesitated for a moment, and then
made the plunge — ' I have taken a flat for the season, and Miss
Wick is coming to me. I believe that is our little plan, my
dear' — with a meaning smile to me. Then Mrs. Torquilin
looked at Mrs. Portheris as if she were wondering whether there
could be any discoverable reason why my relation should stay
any longer. Mrs. Portheris rose, routed, but with a calm eye
and a steady front. ' In that case I hope you will be forbearing
with her, Heppy,' she said. ' Remember that she is a stranger
to our ways of thinking and doing, and has probably never had
the advantages of up-bringing that you and I have. I have no
doubt, however, that my nephew. Colonel Wick, has done his
best for her. As you are probably aware, he is worth his
million.'

Mrs. Torquilin missed the sarcasm. ' Not I ! ' she returned,
coolly ; ' but I'm sure I'm very glad to hear it, for Miss Wick's
sake. As to my temper, I've noticed that those know most
about it who best deserve it. I don't think you need ivorry
yourself about your young connection, Mrs. Cummers Portheris.'

*• No,' said I, meekly ; * I should hate to be a weight on your
mind.'

Mrs. Portheris took my hand in quite an affecting manner.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' Then I leave you, Miss Wick,' she said, ' to this lady — and to
Providence.'

'"then I LEAVE YOU, MISS WICK," SHE SAID, "TO THIS LADY — AND TO
PROVIDENCE " '

' Between them,' I said, ' I ought to have a very good time.*
Mrs. Portheris dropped my hand. ' I feel,' she said, ' that

78 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I have done my part toward you ; but remember, if ever
you want a home^ Miss Purkiss will take you in. When in
doubt *

* Play trumps ! ' said Mrs. Torquilin from the window, where
she stood with her back to all of us. ' I always do. Is that
your carriage waiting outside, Mrs. Cummers Portheris ?'

' It is,' said my relation, betrayed into asperity. * I hope
you have no objection to it ! '

' Oh, none — not the least. But the horses seem very
restive.*

' Come, Miss Purkiss ! ' said my relation.

* The wine and biscuits, dear love,' said Miss Purkiss, ' are
just arriving.'

But Mrs. Portheris was bowing, with stately indefiniteness,
to Mrs. Torquilin's back.

' Come, Miss Purkiss ! * she commanded again. * You can
get a sandwich at the " A. B. 0." '

And Miss Purkiss arose and followed my relation, which was
the saddest thing of all.

As soon as they were well out of the room, Mrs. Torquilin
turned round. ' I suppose you'll wonder about the why and
wherefore of all this turn-up,' she said to me, her cheeks
flushed and her eyes sparkling. ' It's a long story, and I'll tell
you another time. But it comes to this in the end — that
creature and I married into the same family. My husband and
the late John Portheris, poor fellow, were step-brothers ; and that
old cat had the impudence — but there's no use going into it
now. All I have to say is, she generally meets her match
when she meets me. I'll put up with no hanky-panky
work from Mrs. Cummers Portheris, my dear — and well she
knows it ! *

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON jc)

' It was certainly nice of you to help me out of the difficulty,
Mrs. Torquilin,' I said, ' for I'd rather go anywhere than to
Miss Purkiss's ; but I'm sorry you had to '

' Tell a tarradiddle ? Not a bit of it, my dear — I meant it.
Two are better than one, any day — I've plenty of room in my
little flat, and if you like to share the expenses, I'll not object.
At all events, we can but try it, and it will be showing very
good feeling towards the Maffertons. I'm not a great hand for
junketing, mind you, but we'll manage to amuse ourselves a
little — a little giddy-goating does nobody any harm.'

Then I kissed Mrs. Torquilin, and she kissed me, and I told
her how extremely obliged I was to her, and asked her if she had
really considered it ; and Mrs. Torquilin said, wasn't it enough
that I should be left to ' that woman,' meaning my relation, and
that I should come next day to see how we could best arrange
matters. 'And while I think of it, child, here is my address,'
my friend continued, taking out her card-case, and watching
me very carefully, with a little smile about her mouth. I looked
at it. I think my embarrassment gratified her a little ; for the
card read, ' Lady Torquilin^ 102 Cadogan Mansions, S.W.' I
didn't know what to say. And I had been calling a lady of
title ' Mrs.' all this time ! Still, I reflected, she would hardly
have been so nice to me if I had offended her very much, and
if she had been particular about her title she could have men-
tioned it.

' It seems,' I said, ' that I have been making a mistake. I
expected to make mistakes in this country ; but I'm sorry I
began with you.'

' Nonsense, child ! ' she returned. ' It was just my little
joke — and I made Charlie Mafferton keep it. There's precious
little in the handle I assure you — except an extra half-crown in

So AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

one's bills ! ' And Lady Torquilin gave me her hand to say
good-bye.

* Good-bye,' I said ; * I think handles are nice all the same.*
And then — it is an uncomfortable thing to write, but it hap-
pened — I thought of something. I was determined to make no
more mistakes if asking would prevent it.

' Please tell me,' I said, ' for you see I can't possibly know —
am I to call you " your ladyship," or " my lady *' ? '

* Now don't talk rubbish ! ' said Lady Torquilin. ' You're
to call me by my name. You are too quaint. Be a good child
— and don't be late to-morrow.'

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

VllI

' TF I only tad my own house in Portman Street/ Lady Torquilin
JL remarked next day when we were having our tea in her
flat, ' I could make you a great deal more comfy. Here we
are just a bit cramped — " crowded," as you say in America.
But you can't eat your cake and have it too/

' Which have you done, Lady Torquilin,' I inquired, ' with
your cake ? '

' Let it,' said my friend — ' twenty-five guineas a week, my
dear, which is something to a poor woman. Last season it
only brought twenty, and cost me a fortune to get it clean again
after the pigs who lived in it. For the extra five I have to be
thankful to the Duchess.'

' Did you really let it to a Duchess ? ' I asked, with deep
interest. * How lovely ! '

' Indeed I did not ! But the Duchess came to live round
the corner, and rents went up in consequence. You don't
know what it means to property-owners in London to have a
duchess living round the corner, my child. It means every-
thing. Not that I'm freehold in Portman Street —I've only a
lease,' and Lady Torquilin sighed. This led us naturally into
matters of finance, and we had a nice, sensible, practical discus-
sion about our joint expenses. It doesn't matter to anybody what
our arrangement was, but I must say that I found great occa-
sion for protest against its liberality t;Owai*ds me. ' Nonsense I '

82 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

said Lady Torquilin, invariably ; ' don't be a foolish kitten ! It's
probably less than you would pay at a good private hotel —
that's the advantage to you. Every time we take a hansom it
will be only sixpence each instead of a shilling — that's the
advantage to me ; and no small advantage it is, for cabs are
my ruin. And you'll save me plenty of steps, I'm sure, my
dear ! So there, say no more about it, but go and get your
boxes.'

So I drove back to the M^tropole finally, and as I locked
my last trunk I noticed a fresh card on the mantelpiece. It
was another of Mr. Charles Mafferton's ; and on the back was
written in pencil : ' I hope you are meeting with no difficulties.
Should be glad to be of use in any way. Please let me know your
'permanent address as soon as possible, as the mother and sisters
would like to call upon you. — G, M.' This was nice and kind
and friendly, and I tried in vain to reconcile it with what I had
heard of English stiffness and exclusiveness and reserve. I
would write to Mr. Mafferton, I thought^ that very night. I
supposed that by the mother he meant his own, but it struck
me as a curious expression. In America we specify our parents,
and a reference to ' the mother ' there would probably be held
to refer back to Eve. But in England you like all kinds of
distinguishing articles, don't you ?

Lady Torquilin's flat was a new one, of the regular American
kind — not a second or third floor in an old-fashioned London
house — and had a share, I am thankful to say, in a primitive
elevator. The elevator was very small, but the man in the
lower hall seemed to stand greatly in awe of it. ' To get them
there boxes up in this 'ere lift, miss,' he said, when I and my
trunks presented ourselves, * she'll 'ave to make three trips at
least' — and he looked at me rather reproachfully. ' Ware do

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 83

you want 'em put out ? ' I said, ' Lady Torquilin's flat/
' That's Number Four,' he commented, ' a good ways up. If
you wouldn't mind a h'extra sixpence, miss, I could get a man
off the street to 'elp me with 'em — they do be a size ! ' I said
by all means, and presently my impedimenta were ascending
with much deliberate circumstance, one piece at a time. The
acoustic properties of Cadogan Mansions are remarkable.
Standing at the foot of that elevator, encouraging its labours
as it were, I could not possibly help overhearing Lady Torquilin's
reception of my trunks, mingled with the more subdued voices
of her housemaids. It was such a warm reception, expressed
in such graphic terms, that I thought I ought to be present
myself to acknowledge it ; and the man put on two ordinary-
sized valises next, to allow me to go up at the same time.
* We've got our orders, miss, to be pertickeler about wot she
carries, miss,' he said, when I thought a trunk or two might
accompany me. ' You see, if anything went wrong with 'er
works, miss, there's no say in' ware we'd be ! ' — and we solemnly
began to rise. ' Ladies in the Mansions don't generally use the
lift such a very great deal,' he remarked further, ' especially
goin' down. They complain of the sinkin'.'

' I shall always go up and down in it,' I said. ' I dou'l
mind the sinking. I'm used to it.'

' Very well, miss. You 'ave only to press the button and
she'll come up ; an' a great convenience you'll find 'er, miss,'
he returned, resignedly, unlocking the grated door on Lady
Torquilin's flat, where my hostess stood with her hands folded,
and two maids respectfully behind her, regarding the first
instalment of my baggage. After she had welcomed me : ' It's
curiosity in its way,' said Lady Torquilin ; ' but what's to be
done with it, the dear only knows — unless we sublet it.' It

84 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

required some strength of mind to tell her that there were two
more coming up. The next one she called an abnormity, and
the third she called a bam — simply. And I must say my
trunks did look imposing in Lady Torquilin's flat. Finally,
however, by the exercise of ingenuity on our parts and muscle
on the maids', we got the whole of my baggage ' settled up,' as
Lady Torquilin expressed it, and I was ready for my first
approved and endorsed experience in your metropolis.

It came that afternoon. ' I am going to take you,' said
Lady Torquilin at lunch, * to Mrs. Fry Hamilton's " at home."
She likes Americans, and her parties — " functions," as society
idiots call it — disgusting word — are generally rather "swagger,"
as they say. I daresay you'll enjoy it. Make yourself as tidy
as possible, mind. Put on your pretty grey; tuck in that
" fringe " of yours a bit too, my dear ; and be ready by five
sharp.'

' Don't you like my bangs, Lady Torquilin ?*

' Say your fringe, child ; people don't " bang " in England
— except doors and the piano. No, I can't say I'm fond of it.
What were you given a forehead for, if you were not intended
to show it? I fancy I see Sir Hector, when he was alive,
allowing me to wear a fringe ! ' And Lady Torquilin pushed
my hair up in that fond, cheerful, heavy-handed way people
have, that makes you back away nervously and feel yourself a
fright. I went to my room wondering whether my affection
for Lady Torquilin would ever culminate in the sacrifice of my
bangs. I could not say, seriously, that I felt equal to it then.

We went to Mrs. Fry Hamilton's in a hansom — not, as Lady
Toiquilin said, that she had the least objection to omnibuses,
especially when they didn't drop one at the veiy door, but
because there were no om.nibuses very convenient to the part of

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 85

Cromwell Road that Mrs. Fry Hamilton lived in. We inspected
several before Lady Torquilin made a selection — rubber-tyred,
yellow-wheeled, with a horse attached that would hardly stand
still while we got in. I was acutely miserable, he went so
fast; but Lady Torquilin liked it. 'He's perfectly fresh, poor
darling ! ' she said. ' It breaks my heart to drive behind a
wretched worn-out creature with its head down.' I said, Yes,
I thought he was very fresh indeed, and asked Lady Torquilin
if she noticed how he waggled his head. ' Dear beastie ! ' she
replied, * he's got a sore mouth. Suppose your mouth were
perfectly raw, and you had a bit in it, and a man tugging at

the reins * But I couldn't stand it any longer ; I put my

parasol up through the door in the top. ' Make him stop
waggling ! ' I called to the driver. ' It's only a little 'abit of
'is, miss,' the driver said, and then, as the horse dropped his
pace, he whipped him. Instantly Lady Torquilin's parasol
admonished him. ' If you flog your horse,' she said emphati-
cally, ' I get out.' I don't think I have ever driven in a hansom
with Lady Torquilin since that our parasols have not both gone
through the roof to point statements like these to the cabman.
Lady Torquilin usually anguished on the dear horse's account,
and I unhappy on my own. It enlivens the most monotonous
drive, but it is a great strain on the nerves. I generally beg
for a four-wheeler instead ; but Lady Torquilin is contemptuous
of four-wheelers, and declares she would just as soon drive in
the British Museum. She says I will get used to it if I will
only abstract my mind and talk about something else ; and I
am trying, but the process is a very painful one.

When we arrived at Mrs. Fry Hamilton's I rang the bell.
' Bless you, child ! ' said Lady Torquilin, ' that's not the way.
They'll take you for a nursery governess, or a piano-tnner, or a

AN AMERICAN GIHL IN LONDON

bill ! This is the proper thing for visitors.' And with that
Lady Torquilin rapped sonorously and rang a peal — such a rap
and peal as I had never heard in all my life before. In America

MAKE HIM STOP WAGGLING,

CAIiliED TO THE DRIVER

we have only one kind of ring for everybody — from the mayor
of the city to the man who sells plaster Cupids and will take
old clothes on account. We approach each other's door-bells,
as a nation, with much greater deference ; and there is a certain

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON Z^

humility in the way we introduce our personalities anywhere.
I felt uncomfortable on Mrs. Fry Hamilton's doorstep, as if I
were not, individually, worth all that noise. Since then I have
been obliged to rap and ring myself, because Lady Torquilin
likes me to be as proper as I can ; but there is always an in-
completeness about the rap and an ineffectualness about the
ring. I simply haven't the education to do it. And when the
footman opens the door I feel that my face expresses deprecat-
ingly, ' It's only me ! ' ' Rap and ring ! ' says Lady Torquilin,
deridingly, ' it's a tap and tinkle ! ' Lady Torquilin is fond of
alliteration.

Inside quite a few people were ascending and descending a
narrow staircase that climbed against the wall, taking up as
little room as it could ; and a great many were in the room on
the ground-floor, where refreshments were being dispensed.
They were all beautifully dressed — if I have learned anything in
England, it is not to judge the English by the clothes they wear
in America — and they moved about with great precision,
making, as a general thing, that pleasant rustle which we know
to mean a silk foundation. The rustle was the only form of
conversation that appeared to be general, but I noticed speak-
ing going on in several groups of two or three. And I never
saw better going up and down stairs — it was beautifully done,
even by ladies weighing, 1 should think, quite two hundred
pounds apiece, which you must reduce to " stun " for yourself.
Lady Torquilin led the way with great simplicity and directness
into the dining-room, and got tea for us both from one of the
three white-capped modestly-expressionless maids behind the
table — I cannot tell you what a dream of peace your servants
are in this country — and asked me whether I would have
sponge-cake, or a cress sandwich, or what. ' But,' I said,
7

S8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' where is Mrs. Fry Hamilton ? — I haven't been introduced.'
'All in good time,' said Lady Torquilin. 'It's just as well
to take our tea when we can get it — we won't be able to turn
round in here in half an hour ! ' — and Lady Torquilin took
another sandwich with composure. ' Try the plum-cake,' she
advised me in an aside. ' Buszard — I can tell at a glance ! 1
have to deny myself.'

And I tried the plum-cake, but with a sense of guilty
apprehension lest Mrs. Fry Hamilton should appear in the
doorway and be naturally surprised at the consumption of her
refreshments by an utter stranger. I noticed that almost
everybody else did the same thing, and that nobody seemed at
all nervous ; but I occupied as much of Lady Torquilin's shadow
as I could, all the same, and on the way up implored her, saying,
' Have I any crumbs ? ' I felt that it would require more
hardihood than I possessed to face Mrs. Fry Hamilton with
shreds of her substance, acquired before I knew her, clinging to
my person. But concealment was useless, and seemed to be
unnecessary.

'Have you had any tea?' said Mrs. Fry Hamilton to Lady
Torquilin, her question embracing us both, as we passed before
her ; and Lady Torquilin said, ' Yes, thanks,' as nonchalantly
as possible.

Lady Torquilin had just time to say that I was an American.

' Really ! ' remarked Mrs. Fry Hamilton, looking at me
again. 'How nice. The only one I have to-day, I think.'
And we had to make room for somebody else. But it was then
that the curious sensation of being attached to a string and led
about, which T have felt more or less in London ever since,
occurred to me first — in the statement that I was the only one
Mrs. Fry Hamilton had to-day.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 89

Lady Torquilin declared, as she looked round the room, that
she didn't see a soul she knew ; so we made our way to a corner
and sat down, and began to talk in those uninterested spasms
that always attack people who come with each other. Pre-
sently — ' There is that nice little Mrs. Pastelle-Jones ! ' said
Lady Torquilin, ' I must go and speak to her ! ' — and I was left
alone, with the opportunity of admiring the china. I don't
wonder at your fondness for it in London drawing-rooms. It
seems to be the only thing that you can keep clean. So many
people were filing in past Mrs. Fry Hamilton, however, that
the china soon lost its interest for me. The people were chiefly
ladies — an impressive number of old, stout, rosy, white-haired
ladies in black, who gave me the idea of remarkable health at
their age ; more middle-aged ones, rather inclined to be pale
and thin, with narrow cheek-bones, and high-arched noses, and
sweet expressions, and a great deal of black lace and jet, much
puffed on the shoulders ; and young ones, who were, of course,
the very first English young ladies I had ever seen in an
English drawing-room. I suppose you are accustomed to
them ; you don't know what they were to me — you couldn't
understand the intense interest and wonder and admiration
they excited in me. 1 had never seen anything human so tall and
srrong and fine and fresh -coloured before, with such clear
limpid eyes, such pretty red lips, and the outward showing of
such excellent appetites. It seemed to me that everyone was
an epitome of her early years of bread-and-butter and milk
puddings and going to bed at half-past nine, and the epitomes
had a charming similarity. The English young lady stood
before me in Mrs. Fry Hamilton's drawing-room as an extra-
ordinary product^in almost all cases five-eight, and in some
quite six feet in height. Her little mamma was dwarfed besido

90 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

her, and when she smiled down upon the occasional man who
was introduced to her, in her tall, compassionate way, he looked
quite insignificant, even if he carried the square, tuined-back
shoulders by which I have learned to tell military men in this
country. We have nothing like it in America, on the same
scale ; although we have a great deal more air to breathe and
vegetables to eat than you. I knew that 1 had always been
considered ' a big girl,* but beside these firm-fleshed young
women I felt myself rather a poor creature, without a muscular
advantage to my name. They smiled a good deal, but I did
not see them talk much — it seemed enough for them to be ;
and they had a considering air, as if things were new to them,
and they had not quite made up their minds. And as they
considered they blushed a good deal, in a way that was simply
sweet. As I sat musing upon them I saw Lady Torquilin
advancing toward me, with one of the tallest, pinkest, best-
developed, and most tailor-made of all immediately behind her,
following, with her chin outstretched a little, and her eyes
downcast, and a pretty expression of doing what she was told.

' My dear,' said Lady Torquilin, ' this is Miss Gladys For-
tescue. Gladys — Miss Wick, my young lady friend from
Chicago. Miss Fortescue has a brother in America, so you will
have something to chat about.*

' Howdj-do ? ' said Miss Fortescue. She said it very quickly,
with a sweet smile, and an interesting little mechanical move-
ment of the head, blushing at the same time ; and we shook
hands. That is, I think one of us did, though I can't say
positively which one it was. As I remember the process, there
were two shakes ; but they were not shakes that ran into each
other, and one of them — I think it was mine — failed to ' come
off/ as you say in tennis. Mine was the shake that begins

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON QI

nowhere in particular, and ends without your knowing it —
just the ordinary American shake arranged on the muscular
system in common use with us. Miss Fortescue's was a rapid,
convulsive movement, that sprang from her shoulder and cul-
minated with a certain violence. There was a little push in it,
too, and^ it exploded, as it were, high in air. At the same time
I noticed the spectacles of a small man who stood near very
much in peril from Miss Fortescue's elbow. Then I remembered
and understood the sense of dislocation I had experienced after
shaking hands with Mrs. Fry Hamilton, and which I had
attributed, in the confusion of the moment, to being held up,
so to speak, as an American.

* Do you know my brother ? ' said Miss Fortescue.

' I am afraid not,' I replied. ' Where does he live ? '

' In the United States,' said Miss Fortescue. ^ He went out
there six months ago with a friend. Perhaps you know his
friend — Mr. Colfax.'

I said I knew two or three Mr. Oolfaxes, but none of them
were English — had not been, at least, for some time back ; and
did Miss Fortescue know what particular part of the Union her
brother and his friend had gone to ? ^ You know,' I said, ' we
have an area of three million square miles.' I daresay I men-
tioned our area with a certain pardonable pride. It's a thing
we generally make a point of in America.

I shouldn't have thought there was anything particularly
humorous in an area, but Miss Fortescue laughed prettily. ' I
remember learning that from my governess,' she said. 'My
brother is out in the West — either in the town of Minneapolis
and the State of Minnesota, or the town of Minnesota and the
State of Minneapolis. I never know, without looking out his
address, which comes first. But I daresay there are a good

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

" YOU HAVE THE TOE -BEGANING — THAT MUST BE NICE

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 93

many people in the United States — you might easily miss
him.'

' We have sixty millions, Miss Fortescue,' I said ; and Miss
Fortescue returned that in that case she didn't see how we
could be expected to know ari^/body ; and after that the conver-
sation flagged for a few seconds, during which we both looked
at the other people.

' I have never been to America,' Miss Fortescue said. ' I
should like to go. Is it very cold ? '

I did not mention the area again. ' In some places,' I said.

* I should not like that. But then, you have the toe-began-
ing — that must be nice."

I assented, though I did not in the least know, until Miss
Fortescue spoke of skating, what she meant. Miss Fortescue
thought the skating must be nice, too, and then, she supposed,
though it was cold, we always went out prepared for it. And
the conversation flagged again. Fortunately, a gentleman at
the other end of the room, where the piano was, began at that
moment to sing something very pleading and lamentable and
uncomfortable, with a burden of ' I love thee so,' which gene-
rally rhymed with 'woe' — an address to somebody he called
' Dear-r-r Hear-r-r-t ! ' as high as he could reach, turning up
his eyes a good deal, as if he were in pain. And for the time
it was not necessary to talk. When he had finished Miss For-
tescue asked me if it was not delightful, and I said it was —
did she know the gentleman's name? Miss Fortescue said she
did not, but perhaps Lady Torquilin would. And then, just as
Lady Torquilin came up, ' How do you like England ? ' asked

Miss Fortescue.

.••••■

' Well,' asked Lady Torquilin, as we drove home in anothei

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

hansom, ' what did you and Gladys Fortescue find to say to
each other ? '

I said, quite truly, that I did not remember at the moment,
but I admired Miss Fortescue — also with great sincerity — so

* SOMEBODY HE CALLED " DEAR-R-R Hh:An-n li T ! "" '

enthusiastically, that I daresay Lady Torquilin thought we had
got on splendidly together.

And what I wonder is, if Miss Fortescue had been asked
about our conversation, what she would have said.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 95

* T70U are sure you know where you're going ? ' said Lady
J- Torquilin, referring to the 'Army and Navy.' ' Victoria
omnibus, remember, at Sloane-square ; a penny fare, and not
more, mind. You must learn to look after your pennies.
Now, what are you to do for me at the Stores ? '

' A packet of light Silurian ; your camphor and aconite
pilules; to ask how long they intend to be over the valise

they're fixing for you '

' Portmanteau they're re-covering. Yes, go on ! '
' And what their charge is for cleaning red curtains.'
^ And to complain about the candles,' added Lady Tor-
quilin.'

' And to complain about the candles.'

* Yes. Don't forget about the candles, dear. See what
they'll do. And I'm very sorry I can't go with you to Madame
Tussaud's, but you know I've been trotting about the whole
morning, and all those wax people, with their idiotic expres-
sions, this afternoon would simply finish me off! I'll just lie
down a bit, and go with you another day ; I couldn't stand up
much longer to talk to the Queen herself ! You pop into the
" Underground," you know, at St. James's Park, and out at
Baker Street. Now. where do you pop in ? — and out ? That's
quite right. Good-bye, child. I rang for the lift to come up a
quarter of an hour ago ; it's probably there now, and we mustn't

96 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

keep it waiting. Off you go!' But the elevator-door was
locked, and our descent had begun, when Lady Torquilin
harried along the passage, arrested, and kept it waiting on her
own account. ' It's only to say, dear,' she called through the
grating, ' that you are on no consideration whatever to get in
or out of an Underground train while it is moving. On no con-
sideration what ; ' but the grating slowly disappeared, and

the rest of Lady Torquilin's admonition came down on the top
of the elevator.

I had done every one of the commissions. I had been
magisterially raised and lowered from one floor to another, to
find that everything 1 wanted was situated up and down so
many staircases ' and turn to your right, madam,' that I con-
cluded they kept an elevator at the Stores for pleasure. I had
had an agreeable interview with a very blonde young druggist
upon the pilules in the regions above, and had made it all right
with a man in mutton-chop whiskers and an apron about the
candles in the regions below. I had seen a thing I had never
seen in my life before, a very curious thing, that interested me
enormousl}' — a husband and father buying his wife's and
daughters' dry-goods — probably Lady Torquilin would tell me
to say ' dress materials.' In America our husbands and fathers
are too much occupied to make purchases for their families, for
which it struck me that we had never been thankful enough
' I w^ill not have you in stripes ! * I heard him say, as 1
passed, full of commiseration for her. ' What arrogance ! ' J
thought. ' In America they are glad to have us in anything.'
And I rejoiced that it was so. But, as I was saying, I had
done all Lady Torquilin's commissions, and was making my last
trip to the ground-floor with the old soldier in the elevator,
wlien a gentleman got in at one of the stopping-places, and sat

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

down opposite me. He had that look of deliberate indifference
that 1 have noticed so many English gentlemen carry about
with them — as if, although they are bodily present, their interest
in life had been carefully put away at home — and he con-

'"I WILL NOT HAVE YOU IN STRIPES," I HEARD HIM SAY '

centrated his attention upon the point of his umbrella, just as
he used to do upon the salt-cellars crossing the Atlantic Ocean.
And he looked up almost with astonishment when I said, ' How
do you do, Mr. Matferton ? ' rather as if he did not quite expect

98 A.V AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

to be spoken to in an elevator by a young lady. Miss
Wick ! ' he said, and we shook hands as the old soldier let us
out. ' How very odd ! I was on the point of looking you up
at Lady Torquilin's. You see, I've found you out at last — no
thanks to you — after looking all over the place.'

There was a very definite reproach in this, so I told Mr.
Mafferton as we went down the steps that I was extremely sorry
he had taken any trouble on my account ; that I had fully in-
tended to write to him in the course of a day or two, but he had
no idea how much time it took up getting settled in a flat
where the elevator ran only at stated intervals. ' But,' I said,
with some curiosity, * how did you find me out, Mr. Mafferton ? *
For if there is one interesting thing, it is to discover how
an unexpected piece of information about yourself has been
come by.

* Lady Torquilin dropped me a line,' replied Mr. Mafferton ;
' that is, she mentioned it in — in a note yesterday. Lady Tor-
quilin,' Mr. Mafferton went on, * is a very old friend of mine —
and an awfully good sort, as I daresay you are beginning to
find out.*

By this time we had reached the pavement, and were stand-
ing in everybody's way, with the painful indetermination that
attacks people who are not quite sure whether they ought to
separate or not. * 'Ansom cab, sir ? ' asked one of the porters.
* No ! ' said Mr. Mafferton. ' I was on the very point,' he
went on to me, dodging a boy with a bandbox, * of going to offer
my services as cicerone this afternoon, if you and Lady Torquilin
would be good enough to accept them.*

* 'Ansom cab, sir ? ' asked another porter, as Mr. Mafferton,
getting out of the way of a resplendent footman, upset a small
child with w topheavy bonnet, belonging to the lady who

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

belonged to the footman. ' iVo ! ' said Mr. MafFerton, in quite
a temper. ' Shall we get out of this ? ' he asked me, appeal-
ingly ; and we
walked on in the
direction of the
Houses of Parlia-
ment.

' There's no-
thing on in par-
ticular, that I know
of,' he continued;
' bat there are
always the stock
shows, and Lady
Torquilin is up to
any amount of
sight-seeing, I
know.'

' She isn't to-
day, Mr. Mafferton. She's lying down. I did my best to
persuade her to come out with me, and she wouldn't. But I'm
going sight-seeing this very minute, and if you would like to
come too, I'm sure I shall be very glad.'

Mr. Mafferton looked a little uncomfortable. ' Where were
you thinking of going ? ' he asked.

' To Madame Tussaud's,' I said. ' You go by the Under-
ground Railway from here. Get in at St. James's Park Station,
and out at Baker Street Station — about twenty -five minutes in
the cars. And you are not,' I said, remembering what I had
been told, ' under any consideration whatever, to get in or out
of the train while it is moving.'

' UPSET A CHILD WITH A TOPHEAVY BONNET '

loo AN AMERICAN GJRL IN LONDON

Mr. MafFerton laughed. ' Lady Torquilin has been coaching
you,' he said ; but he still looked uncomfortable, and thinking
he felt, perhaps, like an intruder upon my plans, and wishing to
put him at his ease, I said : ' It would really he very kind of
you to come, Mr. Mafferton, for even at school I never could
remember English history, and now I've probably got your
dynasties worse mixed up than ever. It would be a greut
advantage to go with somebody who knows all the dates, and
which kings usurped their thrones, and who they properly
belonged to.'

Mr. Mafferton laughed again. ' I hope you don't expect all
that of me,' he said. ' But if you are quite sure we couldn't
rout Lady Torquilin out, I will take you to Madame Tussaud's
with the greatest pleasure, Miss Wick.'

' I'm quite sure,' I told Mr. Mafferton, cheerfully. ' She
said all those wax people, with their idiotic expressions, this
afternoon would simply finish her up!' — and Mr. Mafferton said
Lady Torquilin put things very quaintly, didn't she ? And we
went together into one of those great echoing caverns in the
sides of the streets that led down flights of dirty steps, past the
man who punches the tickets, and widen out into that border of
desolation with a fierce star burning and brightening in the
blackness of the farther end, which is a platform of the Under-
ground Railway.

' This,' said I to Mr. Mafferton as we walked up and down
waiting for our train, ' is one of the things I particularly wanted
to see.'

'The penny weighing-machine?' asked Mr. Mafferton, for I
had stopped to look at that.

' The whole thing,' said I — ' the Underground system. But
this is interesting in itself,' I added, putting a penny in, and

'■ " PliEASE HOLD MY PARASOL, MK. MAFrERTON, THAT I MAiC GET THE EXACT
TRUTH FOB MY PENNY " '

I02

''•• 'AN^'AWERIC^NGrl^L IN LONDON

stepping on tlie machine. ' Please hold my parasol, Mr.
Mafferton, so that I may get the exact truth for my penny.'
Mr. Mafferton took the parasol with a slightly clouded
expression, which deepened when one of two gentlemen who
had just come on the platform bowed to him. * I think, if you
don't mind. Miss Wick, we had better go farther along the
platform — it will be easier to get the carriage,' he said, in a
manner which quite dashed my amiable intention of telling him
how even the truth was cheaper in this country than in America,
for our weighing-machines wouldn't work for less than a
nickel, which was twice and a-half as much as a penny.
Just then, however, the train came whizzing in, we bundled
ourselves into a compartment, the door banged after us with
frightful explosiveness — the Underground bang is a thing which
I should think the omnibus companies had great cause to be
thankful for — and we went with a scream and a rush into the
black unknown. It seemed to me in the first few minutes that
life as I had been accustomed to it had lapsed, and that a sort
of semi-conscious existence was filling up the gap between
what had been before and what would be again. I can't say I
found this phase of being agreeable. It occurred to me that
my eyes and my ears and my lungs might just as well have
been left at home. The only organ that found any occupation
was my nose — all sense seemed concentrated in that sharp-
edged, objectionable smell. * What do you think of the Under-
ground ? ' said Mr. Mafferton, leaning across, above the rattle.
I told him I hadn't had time to analyse my impressions, in a
series of shrieks, and subsided to watch for the greyness of the
next station. After that had passed, and I was convinced that
there were places where you could escape to the light and air
of the outside world again, I asked Mr. Mafferton a number of

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

103

questions about the railway, and in answering them he said the
first irritating thing I heard in England. ' I hope,' he remarked,
' that your interest in the Underground won't take you all the
way round the Circle to see what it's like.'

'"what do you think of the underground?"'

' Why do you hope that, Mr. Mafferton ? ' I said. ^ Is it
dangerous ? '

' Not in the least,' he returned, a little confusedly. ' Only
— most Americans like to " make the entire circuit," I believe.'

' I've no doubt they want to see how bad it can be,' I said.
' We are a very fair nation, Mr. Mafferton. But though I can't
8

I04 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

anderstand your hope in the matter, I don't think it likely I
shall travel by Underground any more than I can help.*
Because, for the moment, I felt an annoyance. Why should
Mr. Mafferton ^ hope 'about my conduct? — Mr. Mafferton was
not my maiden aunt ! But he very politely asked me how I
thought it compared with the Elevated in New York, and I was
obliged to tell him that I really didn't think it compared at all.
The Elevated was ugly to look at, and some people found it
giddy to ride on, but it took you through the best quality of air
and sunlight the entire distance ; and if anything happened, at
all events you could see what it was. Mr. Mafferton replied that
he thought he preferred the darkness to looking through other
people's windows ; and this preference of Mr. Mafferton's struck
me later as being interestingly English. And after that we both
lapsed into meditation, and I thought about old London, with
its Abbey, and its Tower, and its Houses of Parliament, and its
Bluecoat boys, and its monuments, and its ten thousand hansom
cabs, lying just over my head ; and an odd, pleasurable sensation
of undermining the centuries and playing a trick with history
almost superseded the Underground smell. The more I thought
about it, and about what Mr. Mafferton had said, the more I
liked that feeling of taking an enormous liberty with London,
and by the time we reached Baker Street Station I was able to
say to Mr. Mafferton, with a clear conscience, in spite of my
smuts and lialf-toi'pid state of mind, that on consideration I
thought T would like to compass London by the Underground —
bo ' make the entire circuit.'

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

105

>^x^^N

T struck me, from the
outside, as oddly im-
posing — Madame Tussaud,'s.
Partly, I suppose, because
it is always more or less
treated jocosely, partly
because of the homely little
familiar name, and partly
because a person's expecta-
tions of a waxwork show
are naturally not very lofty.
I was looking out for
anything but a swelling
dome and a flag, and the
high brick walls of an In-
stitution. There seemed a
grotesqueness of dignity
about it, which was empha-
sised by the solemn man at the turnstile who took the shillings
and let us through, and by the spaciousness inside — empha-
sised so much that it disappeared, so to speak, and I found
myself taking the place quite seriously — the gentleman in
tin on the charger in the main hall below, and the wide
marble stairs, and the urns in the corners, and the oil paint-

io6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

ings on the landings, and everything. I began asking Mr.
Mafferton questions immediately, quite in the subdued voice
people use under impressive circumstances ; but he wasn't certain
who the architect was, and couldn't say where the marble
came from, and really didn't know how many years the wax-
works had been in existence, and hadn't the least idea what the
gross receipts were per annum — did not, in fact, seem to think
he ought to be expected to be acquainted with these matters.
The only thing he could tell me definitely was that Madame
Tussaud was dead — and I knew that myself. ' Upon my word,
you know,' said Mr. Mafferton, ' I haven't been here since I
was put into knickers ! ' I was surprised at this remark when
1 heard it, for Mr. Mafferton was usually elegant to a degree in
his choice of terms; but I should not be now. I have found
nothing plainer in England than the language. Its simplicity
and directness are a little startling at first, perhaps, to the
foreign ear ; but this soon wears off as you become accustomed
to it, and I dare say the foreigner begins to talk the same way —
in which case my speech will probably be a matter of grave
consideration to me when I get back to Chicago. In America
we usually put things in a manner somewhat more involved.
Yes, I know you are thinking of the old story about Americans
draping the legs of their pianos ; but if I were you I would
discount that story. For my own part, I never in my life saw
it done.

The moment we were inside the main hall, where the
orchestra was playing, before I had time to say more than ' How
very interesting, Mr. Mafferton ! Who is that ? and why is lie
famous?' Mr. Mafferton bought one of the red and gilt and
green catalogues from the young woman at the door, and put it
into my hand almost impulsively.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 107

'I fancy they're very complete — and reliable, Miss Wick,'
lie said. ' You — you really mustn't depend upon me. It's such
an unconscionable time since I left school.'

I told Mr. Mafferton I was sure that was only his modest
way of putting it, and that I knew he had reams of English
history in his head if he would only just think of it ; and he
replied, ' No, really, upon my word, I have not ! ' But by
that time I realised that I was in the immediate society of all the
remarkable old kings and queens of England ; and the emotions
they inspired, standing round in that promiscuous touchable
way, with their crowns on, occupied me so fully, that for at least
ten minutes I found it quite interesting enough to look at them
in silence. So I sat down on one of the seats in the middle of
the hall, where people were listening to the orchestra's selections
from ' The Gondoliers,' and gave myself up to the curious captiva-
tion of the impression. ' It's not bad,' said Mr. Mafferton,
reflectively, a little way off. ' No,' I said, ' it's beautiful ! ' But
I think he meant the selections, and I meant the kings and
queens, to whom he was not paying the slightest attention.
But I did not find fault with him for that — he had been, in a
manner, brought up amongst these things ; he lived in a country
that always had a king or queen of some sort to rule over it ; he
was used to crowns and sceptres. He could not possibly have
the same feelings as a person born in Chicago, and reared upon
Republican principles. But to me those quaint groups of
royalties in the robes and jewels of other times, and arrayed just
as much in their characters as in their clothes — the characters
everybody knows them by — were a source of pure and, while I
sat there, increasing delight. I don't mind confessing that I
like the kings and queens at Madame Tussaud's better than any-
thing else I've seen in England, at the risk of being considered

io8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

a person of low intelligence. I know that Mr. James Russell
Lowell — whom poppa always used to say he was proud to claim
as a fellow-countryman, until he went Mugwump when Cleveland
was elected — said of them that they were ' much like any other
English party ' ; but I should think from that that Mr. Lowell
was perhaps a little prejudiced against waxworks, and intolerant
of the form of art which they represent ; or, possibly, when he
said it he had just come to London, and had not attended many
English parties. For it seems to me that the peculiar charm
and interest of the ladies and gentlemen at Madame Tussaud's
is the ingenuous earnestness with which they show you their
temperaments and tastes and dispositions, which I have not
found especially characteristic of other English ladies and gentle-
men. As Lady Torquilin says, however, ' that's as it may be.'
All I know is, that whatever Mr. Lowell, from his lofty Harvard
standard of culture, may find to say in deprecation of all that is
left of your early sovereigns, I, from my humble Chicago point
of view, was immensely pleased with them. I could not get
over the feeling — I have not got over it yet — that they were, or
at any rate had once been, veritable kings and queens. I had
a sentiment of respect; I could not think of them, as I told Mr.
MafTerton, ' as wax ' ; and it never occurred to me that the crowns
were brass and the jewels glass. Even now I find that an
unpleasant reflection ; and I would not go back to Madame
Tussaud's on any account, for fear the brassinesa of the crowns
and the glassiness of the jewels might obtrude themselves the
second time, and spoil the illusion. English history, with its
moated castles, and knights in armour, and tyrant kings and
virtuous queens, had always seemed more or less of a fairy tale to
me — it is difficult to believe in mediasval romance in America —
and there, about me, was the fairy tale realised : all the curious

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 109

old people who died of a ' surfeit of lampreys/ or of a bad
temper, or of decapitation, or in other ways which would be
considered eccentric now, in all their dear old folds and fashions,
red and blue and gold and ermine, with their crowns on !
There was a sociability among them, too, that I thought inte-
resting, and that struck me as a thing I shouldn't have expected,
some of their characters being so very good, and some so very
bad ; but I suppose, being all kings and queens, any other
distinction would be considered invidious. I looked up while I
was thinking about them, and caught Mr. Mafferton yawning,

' Are you impressed ? ' he said, disguising it with a smile.

' Very much,' I answered him. ' In a way. Aren't you ? '

'I think they're imbecile,' said Mr. Mafferton. * Imbecile
old Things ! I have been wondering what they could possibly
suggest to you.'

Mr. Mafferton certainly spoke in that way. I remember it
distinctly. Because I depended upon it in taking, as we went
round, a certain freedom of criticism — depended upon it, I had
reason to believe afterwards, unwarrantably.

* Let us look at them individually,' I said, rising. * Collec-
tively, I find them lovable.*

' Well, now, I envy them ! ' replied Mr. Mafferton, with
great coolness. This was surprisingly frivolous in Mr.
Mafferton, who was usually quite what would be called a serious
person, and just for a minute I did not quite know what to say.
Then I laughed a little frivolously too. ' I suppose you intend
that for a compliment, Mr. Mafferton,' I said. Privately, I
thought it very clumsy. ' This is Number One, I think ' — and
we stopped before William the Conqueror asking Matilda of
Flanders to sit down.

* I don't know that I did,' said Mr. Mafferton — which made

no AN AMERICAN CTRL IN LONDON

the situation awkward for me ; for if there is an uncomfortable
thing, it is to appropriate a compliment which was not intended.
An Englishman is a being absolutely devoid of tact.

* So this is William the Conqueror ? ' I said, by way of
changing the subject.

' It may be a little like his clothes,' said Mr. Mafferton,
indifferently.

* Oh ! don't say that, Mr. Mafferton. I'm sure he looks every
inch a William the Conqueror ! See how polite he is to his wife,
too — I suppose that's because he's French ? '

Mr. Mafferton didn't say anything, and it occurred to me
that perhaps I had not expressed myself well.

' Do you notice,' I went on, ^ how he wears his crown — all
tipped to one side ? He reminds me just a little, Mr. Mafferton,
with that type of face — enterprising, you know — and hair tliat
length, only it ought to be dark, and if the crown were only a
wide-brimmed, soft felt hat — he reminds me very much of those
Californian ranchers and miners Bret Harte and Joaquin Miller
write about.'

* Do you mean cowboys ? ' asked Mr. Mafferton, in a way
that told me he wasn't going to agree with me.

' Yes, that kind of person. I think William the Conqueror
would make a beautiful cowboy — a regular "Terror of the
Canyon." '

' Can't say I see it,' said Mr. Mafferton, fixing his eye upon
the bass 'cello at the other end of the room.

' It isn't in that direction,' I said, and Mr. Mafferton became
exceedingly red. Then ic occurred to me that possibly over
here that might be considered impertinent, so I did my best to
make up for it. ' A very nice face, isn't it ? ' I went on.
* What is he particularly noted for, Mr. Mafferton, besides the

HO THIS IS WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

!!2 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Curfew, and the Doomsday Book, and introducing old families
into England ? '

Mr. Mafferton bit his moustache. I had never seen any-
body bite his moustache before, though I had always understood
from novels that it was done in England. Whether American
gentlemen have better tempers, or whether they are afraid of
injuring it, or why the habit is not a common one with us, I am
unable to say.

' Really, Miss Wick,' Mr. Mafferton responded, with six
degrees of frost, ' I — is there nothing about it in the cata-
logue ? He established the only date which would ever stick
in my memory — 1066. But you mustn't think he brought all
the old families in England over with him. Miss Wick — it is
incorrect.'

' I daresay,' I said ; ' people get such curious ideas about
Kngland in America, Mr. Matferton.' But that did not seem to
please Mr. Mafferton either. ' I think they ought to know,' he
said, so seriously that I did not like to retaliate with any
English misconceptions of American matters. And from what
J know of Mr. Mafferton now, I do not think he would have seen
the slightest parallel.

' How this brings it all back,' I said, as we looked at
William the Second, surnamed Rufus, in blue and yellow, with
a plain front— 'the marks in history at school, and the dates let
in at the sides of the pages ! " His dead body, with an
arrow sticking in it, was found by Purkiss, a charcoal-burner,
and carried in a cart to Winchester, where it was buried in the
Cathedral." I remember I used to torment myself by wondering
whether they pulled the arrow out, because in my history it
didn't say they did.'

'It's a fact,' said Mr. Mafferton ; ' one always does think of

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 113

the old chap with the arrow sticking in him. Burne- Jones or
one of those fellows ought to paint it — the forest, you know,
twilight, and the charcoal-burner in a state of funk. Tremen-
dously effective —though, I daresay, it's been done scores of
times.'

* And sold to be lithographed in advertisements ! ' I added.

*Ah, Miss Wick, that is the utilitarian American way of
looking at things ! ' Mr. Mafferton remarked, jocularly ; and I
don't think I could have been expected to refrain from telling
him that I had in mind a certain soap not manufactured in
America.

When we got as far as Henry the Second, Curtmantle,
whom Madame Tussaud describes as a * wise and good king,'
and who certainly has an amiable, open countenance, I noticed
that all the crowns were different, and asked Mr. Mafferton
about it — whether at that time every king had his crown made
to order, and trimmed according to his own ideas, or had to
take whatever crown was going ; and whether it was his to do as
he liked with, or went with the throne; and if the majority of the
kings had behaved properly about their crowns, and where they
all were. But if Mr. Mafferton knew, he chose to be equivocal
— he did not give me any answer that I feel I could rely upon
sufficiently to put into print. Then we passed that nice
brave crusading Richard the First, sumamed Coeur de Lion, in
some domestic argument with his sweet Berengaria ; and Mr.
Mafferton, talking about her, used the expression, ' Fair flower
of Navarre.' But at that time he was carrying the catalogue.

King John I thought delightful ; I could not have believed
it possible to put such a thoroughly bad temper into wax, and I
said so to Mr. Mafferton, who agreed with me, though without
enthusiasm. *The worst king who ever sat on the English

714 AX AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

tlirone ! ' I repeated, meditatively, quoting from Mndame
Tussaud — * that's saying a great deal, isn't it, Mr. Mafli'erton ? '
My escort said No, he couldn^t say he thought it represented
sucli an acme of wickedness, and we walked on, past swarthy
little sad Charles the Second, in armour and lace, who looks —
and how could he help it ? — as if he were always thinking of what
happened to his sire — I suppose the expression ' poppa ' is un-
known among royalties. Mr. Mafferton would not agree to this
either ; he seemed to have made up his mind not to agree to
anything further.

I should like to write a whole chapter about Henry the
Eighth as he looked that day, though I daresay it is an
habitual expression, and you may have seen it often yourself.
He was standing in the midst of a group of ladies, including
some of his wives, stepping forward in an impulsive, emotional
way. listening, with grief in both his eyes, to the orchestra's

rendition of

Bury 1 Bury I Let the grave close o'er,

as if deeply deprecating the painful necessity of again becoming
a widower. It was beautiful to see the way the music worked
upon his feelings. It will be impossible for me ever to think
so badly of him again.

* What is your impression of him ? ' asked Mr. Mafferton.

I said I thought he was too funny for words.

' He was a monster ! ' my friend remarked, ' and you are
quite the first person, I should say, who has ever discovered
anything humorous in him.' And I gathered from Mr.
MafFerton's tone that, while it was pardonable to think badly of
an English monarch, it was improper to a degree to find him
amusing.

Then T observed that they were all listening with Henry the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 115

Eighth — Philippa of Hainault with her pink nose, and the
Black Prince in mail, and Catharine of Arragon embracing her
monkey, and Cardinal Wolsey in red, and Caxton in black, and
Chaucer in poet's grey, listening intently — you could tell even
by their reflections in the glass — as the orchestra went on —

The days that have been, and never shall be more I
Personally, I felt sorry for them all, even for that old maid in
armour, James the Second. Mr. Mafferton, by the way, could
see nothing in the least old-maidish about this sovereign.
They must have had, as a rule, such a very good time while
it lasted — it must have been so thoroughly disagreeable to die !
I wanted immensely to ask Mr. Mafferton — but somehow his
manner did not encourage me to do it — whether in those very
early times kings were able to wear their crowns eveiy day
without exciting comment, as Madame Tussaud distinctly gives
you the idea that they did. And it seemed to me that in those
days it must have been really worth while to be a king, and be
different from other people, in both dress and deportment. I
would not go through the other rooms, because I did not believe
anything could be more beautiful than the remains of your
early sovereigns, and, moreover, Mr. Mafferton was getting so
very nearly sulky that I thought I had better not. But just
through the door I caught a glimpse of one or two American
Presidents in black, with white ties. They had intelligent faces,
but beside your Plantagenets I don't mind confessing they didn't
look anything !

i6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I HAD not tlie least expectation of beiug fortunate enough to
see your Parliament open, having always heard that all the
peeresses wanted to go on that occasion, and knowing how little
sitting accommodation you had for anybody. Americans find
nothing more impressive in England than the difficulty of get-
ting a look at your system of government — our own is so very
accessible to everyone who chooses to study it, and to come and
sit in the general gallery of the House of Congress or the Senate
without making a disturbance. The thing an American tells
first, and with most pride, when he comes home after visiting
England, is that he has attended a sitting of Parliament and
seen Mr. Gladstone; if he has heard your veteran politician
speak, he is prouder still. So I had cherished the hope of some-
how getting into the House while Parliament was in session, and
seeing all the people we read so much about at home in connec-
tion with the Irish Question — it was the thing, I believe, I had
set my heart upon doing most ; but tickets for the opening of
Parliament from Mr. Mafferton, with a note informing Lady
Torquilin that his cousin had promised to look after us on the
occasion, represented more than my highest aspiration.

Lady Torquilin was pleased, too, though I don't think she
intended to express her pleasure when she said, with an air of
philosophical acceptance of whatever Fate might send, ' Provi-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON \\^

dence only knows, my dear, how the old man will behave ! He
may be as agreeable as possible — as merry as a grig — and he
may be in a temper like the ' ; and Lady Torquilin com-
pressed her lips and nodded her head in a way that told me how
her remark would finish if she were not a member of the Church
of England, rather low, and a benefactor to deep-sea fishermen
and Dr. Barnardo, with a strong objection to tobacco in any
form. ' We must avoid subjects that are likely to provoke him :
local self-government for Ireland has given him apoplexy
twice ; I've heard of his getting awful tantrums about this last
Licensing Bill ; and marriage with a deceased wife's sister, I
know, is a thing to avoid ! *

Then it dawned upon me that this was Mr. Mafferton's
cousin, who was a lord, and I had a very great private satisfac-
tion that I should see what he was like.

* I remember,' I said. ' This is the cousin that you said was
an old '

* Brute ! ' Lady Torquilin finished for me, seeing that I
didn't quite like to. ' So he is, when he's in a rage ! I wouldn't
be Lady Mafierton, poor dear, for something! An ordinary
" K " and an ordinary temper for me ! ' I asked Lady Tor-
quilin what she meant by '■ an ordinary K ' ; and in the next half-
hour I got a lesson on the various distinctions of the English
aristocracy that interested me extremely. Lady Torquilin's ' K,'
I may say, while I am talking about it, was the ' O.M.G.' kind,
and not the ' K ' sometimes conferred late in life upon illustrious
butchers. Lady Torquilin didn't seem to think much of this
kind of ' K,' but I was glad to hear of it. It must be a great
encouragement to honesty and industry in the humbler walks of
life, or, as you would say, among the masses; and though, I
suppose, it wouldn't exactly accord with our theory of govern-

ii8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

raent, I am sorry we have nothing even remotely like it iu
America.

It was a nice day, a lovely day, an extraordinary day, the
February day Lady Torqnilin and 1 compromised upon a hansom
and drove to the Parliament buildings. A person has such a
vivid, distinct recollection of nice days in London ! The drive
knocked another of my preconceived ideas to pieces — the idea
that Westminster was some distance off, and would have to be
reached by train — not quite so far, perhaps, as Washington is
from New York, for that would just as likely as not put it in
the sea, but a considerable distance. I suppose you will think
that inexcusable; but it is very difficult to be enough interested
in foreign capitals to verify vague impressions about them, and
Westminster is a large-sounding name, that suggests at least a
mayor and a town council of its own. It was odd to find it
about twenty minutes from anywhere in London, and not to
know exactly when you had arrived until the cab rolled under
the shadow of the Abbey, and stopped in the crowd that waited
to cheer the great politicians. Lady Torquilin immediately
asked one of the policemen which way to go — I don't know any-
body who appreciates what you might call the encyclopaedic
value of the London police more that Lady Torquilin — and he
waved us on. ' Straight ahead, madarne, and turn in at the
'orseback statyou,' he said, genially, the distance being not more
than two hundred yards from where we stood, and the turning-
in point visible On the way, notwithstanding, Lady Tor-
quilin asked two other policemen. My friend loves the peace of
mind that follows absolute certainty. Presently we were fol-
lowing the rustling elegance of two or three tall ladies, whom 1
at once pronounced to be peeresses, through the broad, quiet,
red corridor that leads to the House of Lords.

Ay AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 119

We were among the very first, and had our choice of the
long, narrow seats that run along the wall in a terrace on each
side of the Chamber. Fortunately, Lady Torquilin had attended
other openings of Parliament, and knew that we must sit on the
left; otherwise we might just as likely as not have taken our
places on the other side, where there were only two or three old
gentlemen with sticks and silk hats — which, I reflected after-
wards, would have been awful. But, as it happened, we sat down
very decorously in our proper places, and I tried to realise, as we
looked at the crowded galleries and the long, narrow, solemn
crimson room with the throne-chair at one end, that I was in
the British House of Lords. Our Senate, just before the open-
ing of Congress, is so very different. Most of the senators are
grey -haired, and many of them are bald, but they all walk about
quite nimbly, and talk before the proceedings begin with a
certain vivacity ; and there are pages running round with notes
and documents, and a great many excited groups in the lobbies,
and a general air of crisp business and alacrity everywhere. The
only thing I could feel in the House of Lords that morning
was a concentrated atmospheric essence of Importance. I
was thinking of a thing Senator Ingalls said to me two years
ago, which was what you would call ' comic,* when the idea
struck me that it was almost time for Parliament to open,
and not a single peer had arrived. So I asked Lady Torquilin
when the lords might be expected to come in. Up to this
time we had been discussing the millinery bv which we were
surrounded.

' 1 daresay there won't be many to-day,' said Lady Torquilin.
' Certainly very few so far ! '

' Are there any here ? ' I asked her.

*()li, yes — just opposite, don't you see, child! That well-
9

I20 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

set-up man with the nice, wholesome face, the third from the
end in the second row from the bottom — that's Lord Rosebery ;
and next him is the great beer-man — I forget his title ; and
here is Lord Mafferton now — don't look — coming into the first
row from the bottom, and leaning over to shake hands with
Lord Rosebery.*

*Tell me when I can look,' I said, 'because I want to
awfully. But, Lady Torquilin, are those peers? They look
very respectable and nice, I'm sure, but I did expect more in
the way of clothes. Where are their flowing mantles, and their
chains and swords and things ? '

' Only when the Queen opens Parliament in person,' said
Lady Torquilin. 'Then there is a turn-out! Now you can
look at Lord Mafferton — the rude old man ! Fancy his having
the impudence to. sit there with his hat on !'

I looked at Lord Mafferton, who certainly had not removed
his hat — the large, round, shiny silk hat worn by every gentle-
man in England, and every commercial traveller in America.
Under the hat he was very pink and fat, with rather a snubby
nose, and little twinkling blue eyes, and a suggestion of white
whisker about the place where his chin and his cheek disap-
peared into his neck. He wore lavender-kid gloves, and was
inclined to corpulency. I should not have trusted this descrip-
tion of a peer of your realm if it had come from any other
American pen than my own — I should have set it down as a
gross exaggeration, due to envy, from the fact that we can neither
produce peers in our own country nor keep them there for any
length of time ; but I was obliged to believe ray own eyes, and
that is the way they reported Lord Mafferton from the othei' side
of your Upper House. There were other gentlemen in the rows
opposite — gentlemen all in black, and gentlemen in light waist-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON I2!

coats, bearded and clean-shaven, most of them elderly, but a few
surprisingly middle-aged — for your natural expectation is to see
a peer venerable — but I must say there was not one that I
would have picked out to be a peer, for any particular reason,
in the street. And it seemed to me that, since they are consti-
tutional, as it were, there ought to be some way of knowing
them. I reasoned again, however, that perhaps my lack of dis-
crimination was due to my not being accustomed to seeing peers
— that possibly the delicate distinctions and values that make
up a peer would be perfectly evident to a person born, so to
speak, under the shadow of the aristocracy. And in the mean-
time the proceedings began by everybody standing up. I don't
know whether I actually expected a procession and a band, but
when I discovered that we were all standing while four or five
gentlemen in red gowns walked to the other end of the room
and took chairs, my emotions were those of blank surprise.
Presently I felt Lady Torquilin give an emphatic tug to my
skirt. ' Sit down, child ! ' she said. '- Everybody else has ! Do
you want to make a speech ? * — and I sat down quickly. Then I
observed that a gentleman in black, also in fancy dress, was
reading something indistinctly to the four or five red-gowned
gentlemen, who looked very solemn and stately, but said nothing.
It was so difficult for a stranger to understand, that I did not
quite catch what was said to another gentleman in black with
buckled shoes, but it must have been to the purport of ' Go and
fetch it ! ' for he suddenly began to walk out backwards, stop-
ping at every few steps to bow with great deference to them of
the red gowns, which must have been very trying, for nobody
returned the bows, and he never could tell who might have
come in behind him. ' I suppose he has gone out for a minute
to get something,' I said to Lady Torquilin ; and then she told

122 • AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

me what, of course, 1 ought to have known if 1 had refreshed
myself with a little English history before starting — that he was
the Usher of the Black Rod, and had been sent to bring the
members of the other Parliament. And presently there was a
great sound of footsteps in the corridors outside, and your House
of Commons came hurrying to the ' bar,' I believe it is called, of
your House of Lords. It was wonderfully interesting to look at,
to a stranger, that crowd of members of your Lower House as it
came, without ceremony, to the slender brass rod and stopped
there, because it could come no farther — pressing against it,
laying hands upon it, craning over it, and yet held back by the
visible and invisible force of it. Compared with the well-fed
and well-groomed old gentlemen who sat comfortably inside,
these outsiders looked lean and unkempt ; but there were so
many of them, and they seemed so much more in earnest than
the old gentlemen on the benches, that the power of the brass
rod seemed to me extraordinary. I should not have been an
American if I had not wondered at it, and whether the peers in
mufti would not some day be obliged to make a habit of dressing
up in their mantles and insignia on these occasions to impress
the Commoners properly with a sense of difference and a reason
for their staying outside.

Then, as soon as they were all ready to pay attention, the
Vice-Chancellor read the Queen's letter, in which Her Majesty,
so far as I could understand, regretted her inability to be
present, told them all a good deal about what she had been doing
since she wrote last, and closed by sending her kind regards and
best wishes — a very pleasant letter, I thought, and well-written.
Then we all stood up again while the gentlemen in red, the Lord
Chancellor, and the others walked out ; after which everybody
dispersed, and I found myself shaking hands with Lord Malfer-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

123

ton in a pudgy, hearty way^ as he and Lady Torquilin and I
departed together.

' So this is our little Yankee ! ' said Lord Mafferton, with
his fat round chin stretched out sideways, and his hands behind
his back. Now I am quite five-feet eight, and I do not like
being called names,
but I found a diffi-
culty in telling
Lord Maff'erton
that I was not their
little Yankee ; so I

smiled, and said
nothing. ' Well,
well ! Come over
the " duckpond "
— isn't that what
you call the Atlan-
tic Ocean ? — to see
how fast old Eng-
land is going to
pieces, eh ? '

' Oh ! ' said Lady Torquilin, ' I think Miss Wick is delighted
with England, Lord Mafferton.'

' Yes,' I said, ' I am. Delighted with it ! Why should any-
body think it is going to pieces ? '

' Oh, it's a popular fancy in some quarters,' said Lord

LORD MAFFERTON.

124 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Mafferton. Being a lord, I don't suppose he winked at Lady
Torquilin, but he did something very like it.

*I should call it a popular fallacy,' I declared; at which
Lord Mafferton laughed, and said, * It was all very well, it was
all very well,' exactly like any old grandpapa. ' Miss Wick
would like a look over the place, I suppose,' he said to Lady
Torquilin. *You think it would be safe, eh? No explosives
concealed about her — she doesn't think of blowing us up ? '
And this very jocular old peer led the way through a labyrinth
of chambers and corridors of which I can't possibly remember
the locality or the purpose, because he went so fast.

' No doubt you've heard of Cromwell,' he said beside one
door. I should have liked to know why he asked me, if there
was no doubt of it ; but 1 suppose a lord is not necessarily a
logician. 'This is the room in which he signed the death-
warrant of Charles the First.'

' Dear me,' I said. ' The one that he's holding a copy of
on his lap at Madame Tussaud's ? '

' I dare say ! I dare say ! ' said Lord Mafferton. ' But not
so fast, my dear young lady, not so fast ! You mustn't go m,
you know. That's not allowable ! ' and he whisked us away to
the Library. ' Of course, Miss Wick understands,' he said to Lady
Torquilin, ' that every word spoken here above a whisper means
three days in a dungeon on bread and water ! ' By this time
my ideas of peers had become so confused that I was entirely
engaged in trying to straighten them out, and had very little
to say of any sort ; but Lord Mafferton chatted continually as
we walked through the splendid rooms, only interrupting him-
self now and then to remind me of the dungeon and the penalty
of talking. It was very difficult getting a first impression of
the English House of Parliament and an English peer at the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 125

same time — they continually interrupted each other. It was in
the Eoyal Banqueting Hall, for instance, where I was doing my
best to meditate upon scenes of the past, that Lord Mafferton
stated to Lady Torquilin his objection to the inside of an omnibus,
and this in itself was distracting. It would never occur to any-
body in America to think of a peer and an omnibus together.
The vestibule of the House of Commons was full of gentlemen
walking about and talking ; but there was a great deliberateness
about the way it was done — no excitement, and every man in his
silently-expressive silk hat. They all seemed interested in each
other in an observing way, too, and whether to bow or not to bow ;
and when Lord Mafferton recognised any of them, he was usually
recognised back with great cordiality. You don't see so much
of that when Congress opens. The members in the lobby are
usually a great deal too much wrapped up in business to take
much notice of each other. I observed, too, that the British
Government does not provide cuspidores for its legislators, which
struck me as reflecting very favourably upon the legislative sense
of propriety here, especially as there seemed to be no obvious
demand for such a thing.

' Bless you, my dear young lady, you mustn't go in fhere ! *
exclaimed Lord Mafferton at the door of the House, as I stepped
in to take a perfectly inoffensive look at it. * Out with you
quick, or they'll have you off to the Tower before you can say
George Washington ! '

' But why ? ' I asked, quite breathless with my sudden exit.

* Young people should never ask " why ? " ' said Lord
Mafferton, serio-comically. ' Thank your American stars that
Salisbury or any of those fellows were not about ! '

This peer evidently thought I was very, very young — about
twelve; but I have noticed since that not only peers, but all

126

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

agreeable old gentlemen in England, have a habit of dating you
back in this way. It is a kindly, well-meant attitude, but it
leaves you without very much to say.

mSARRANOEP MY FEATURES FOR LIFE

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 177

I thought feminine privileges in your House of Commons very
limited indeed then, but considerably more so when I attended a
sitting with Lady Torquilin a week later, and disarranged my
features for life trying to look through the diamonds of the iron
grating with which Parliament tries to screen itself from the
criticism of its lady relations. Lord MafFerton came up that
day with us, and explained that the grating was to prevent the
ladies from throwing themselves at the heads of the unmarried
members — a singular precaution. The only other reason I could
hear why it should not be taken down was that nobody had done
it since it was put up — a remarkably British reason, and calcu-
lated, as most things seem to be in this country, to last.

Aad I saw your Prince that afternoon. He came into the
Peers' Gallery in a light overcoat, and sat down with two or
three friends to watch his people governing their country below.
He seemed thoroughly interested, and at times, when Mr. OBrien
or Mr. O'Connor said something that looked toward the dis-
memberment of his empire, amused. And it was an instructive
sight to see your future king pleased and edified, and unen-
cumbered by any disagreeable responsibilities, looking on.

128 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XII

I TOLD Lady Torquilin that the expression struclc me as
profane.

* How ridiculous you are, child ! It's a good old English
word. Nobody will understand you if you talk about your
" rubbers " in this country. " Goloshes," certainly. G-o-
1-o-S'h-e-s, "goloshes." Now, go directly and put them on,
and don't be impertinent about the English language in Eng-
land, whatever you may be out of it ! '

I went away murmuring, ^ " G-o-l-o-s-h-e-s, goloshes"!
What a perfectly awful — literally unutterable word ! No, I love
Lady Torquilin, and I like her England, but I'll never, never,
never say " goloshes " ! I'd almost rather swear ! ' And as I
slipped on the light, thin, flexible articles manufactured, I
believe, in Rochester, N.Y., and privately compared them with
the remarkable objects worn by the British nation for the
purpose of keeping its feet dry, the difference in the descriptive
terms gave me a certain satisfaction.

Lady Torquilin and I were going shopping. I had been
longing to shop in London ever ^ince I arrived, but, as Lady
Torquilin remarked^ my trunks seemed to make it almost un-
reasonable. So up to this time I had been obliged to content
myself with looking at the things in the windows, until Lady
Torquilin said she really couldn't spend so much time in front

AY AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 129

of shop- windows — we had better go inside. Besides, she
argued, of course there was this to be said — if you bought a good
thing, there it was — always a good thing! ' And it isn't as if
you were obliged to pinch, my dear. I would be the' last one
to counsel extravagance,' said Lady Torquilin. ' Therefore
we'll go to the cheapest place first ' — and we got an omnibus. It
seemed full of people who were all going to the cheapest place,
and had already come, some of them a long way, to go to it,
judging by their fares. They were not poor people, nor
respectably-darned people, nor shabby-genteel people. Some of
them looked like people with incomes that would have enabled
them to avoid the cheapest place, and some gave you the idea
that, if it were not for the cheapest place, they would not look
so well. But they had an invariable expression of content
with the cheapest place, or appreciation of it, that made me
quite certain they would all get out when we stopped there ;
and they did.

We went in with a throng that divided and hurried hither
and thither through long ' departments,' upstairs and down, past
counters heaped with cheapnesses, and under billowing clouds
and streaming banners of various colours, marked Is. \\dj. and
ll|c2. in very black letters on a very white ground. The whole
place spoke of its cheapness, invited you to approach and have
your every want supplied at the lowest possible scale of profit — for
cash. Even the clerks — as we say in America, incorrectly, I
believe — the people behind the counter suggested the sweet
reasonableness of the tariff ; not that I mean anything invidious,
but they seemed to be drawn from an unpretending, inexpensive
class of humanity. The tickets claimed your attention every-
where, and held it, the prices on them were so remarkably low ;
and it was to me at first a matter of regret that they were all

I30

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

attached to articles I could not want under any circumstances.
For, the moment I went in. I succumbed to the cheapest place ;
I desired to avail myself of it to any extent — to get the benefit

* THE WHOLE PLACE SPOKE OF ITS CHEAPNESS '

of those fascinating figures personally and immediately. I fol-
lowed Lady Torquilin with eagerness, exclaiming : but nothing
would induce her to stop anywhere ; she went straight for the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 131

trifles she wanted, and I perforce after her. ' There are some
things, my dear,' she said, when we reached the right counter,
' that one 'must come here for, but beyond those few odds and
ends — well, I leave you to judge for yourself.'

This was calculated to dash a pei son's enthusiasm, and mine
was dashed at once. There is nothing, in shopping, like a
friend's firm and outspoken opinion, to change your views. I
began to think unfavourably of the cheapest place immediately,
and during the twenty-five minutes of valuable time which Lady
Torquilin spent, in addition to some small silver, upon a box of
pink paper trimmings for pudding-dishes, I had arrived at a state
of objection to the cheapest place, which intensified as we
climbed more stairs, shared more air with the British Public of
the cheapest place, and were jostled at more counters. ' For,'
Lady Torquilin said, ' now that we are here, though 1 loathe
coming, except that it's something you ought to do, we really
might as well see what there is ! ' — and she found that there were
quite a number of little things at about a shilling and a ha'penny
that she absolutely needed, and would have to pay 'jnst double
for, my dear, anywhere else.' By that time my objection be-
came active, and embraced the cheapest place and everything
connected with it, quite unreasonably. For there was no doubt
about the genuineness of the values ofr»>red all over its counters,
or about the fact that the clerks were doing the best they could
to sell seven separate shillings'-worth at the same moment to
different individuals, or of the respectability of the seven people
who were spending the seven shillings. It would have been a
relief, indeed, to have detected something fraudulent among the
bargains, or some very great adventuress among the customers.
It was the deadly monotony of goodishness and cheapishness in
everything and everybody that oppressed you. There were no

132 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

heights of excellence and no contrasting depths — all one level of
quality wherever you looked — so that the things they sold at the
cheapest place — sold with mechanical respect, and as fast as they
could tie them up — seemed to lack all individuality, and to have
no reason for being, except to become parcels. There was none
of the exultation of bargain-getting ; the bargains were on a
regular system of fixed laws — the poetic delight of an unex-
pected ' reduction ' was wholly absent. The cheapest place
resolved itself into a vast, well-organised Opportunity, and inside
you saw the British Public and the Opportunity together.

• 'Ere is your chainge, madam,' said the hollow-eyed young
woman who had been waiting upon Lady Torquilin in the matter
of a letter-weight and a Japanese umbrella. ' Thank you,'
said Lady Torquilin. ' I*m afraid you get very tired, don't you,
before the day is over?' my friend asked the young woman,
with as sweet a smile as she could have given anybody. The
young woman smiled back again, and said, ' Very, laadame'; but
that was all, for three other people wanted her. I put this in
because it is one of the little things she often says that show the
niceness of Lady Torquilin.

' Now, what do you think of the cheapest place ? ' asked Lady
Torquilin as we walked together in the Edgware Road. I told
her as I have told you. ' H'mph ! ' said she. ' It's not a shop
I like myself, but that's what I call being too picksome ! You
get what you want, and if you don't want it you leave it, and
why should you care ! Now, by way of variety, we'll go to the
dearest place ; ' and the omnibus we got into rattled off in the
direction of Bond Street. It struck me then, and often since,
how oddly difierent London is from an American city to go
shopping in. At home the large, important stores are pretty
much together, in the business part of the city, and anybody can

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 133

tell from the mere buildings what to expect in the way of style
and price. In London you can't tell at all, and the well-known
shops are scattered over square miles of streets, by twos an^
threes, in little individaal towns, each with its own congregation
of smaller shops, and its own butchers and bakers and news-
stands, and post-office and squares and * places,' and blind alleys
and strolling cats and hand organs ; and to get from one to
another of the little towns it is necessary to make a journey in
an omnibus. Of course, I know there are a few places pre-
eminent in reputation and ' form ' and price — above all in price —
which gather in a few well-known streets ; but life in all these
little centres which make up London would be quite complete
without them. They seem to exist for the benefit of that extra-
vagant element here that has nothing to do with the small respect-
able houses and the little domestic squares, bat hovers over the
city during the time of year when the sun shines and the fogs
are not, living during that time in notable localities, under the
special inspection of the ' Morning Post.' The people who
really live in London — the people of the little centres — can quite
well ignore these places ; they have their special shop in
Uxbridge Road or St. Paul's Churchyard, and if they tire of
their own particular local cut, they can make morning trips from
Uxbridge Road to the High Street, Kensington, or from either
to Westboume Grove. To Americans this is very novel and
amusing, and we get a great deal of extra pleasure out of shop-
ping in London in sampling, so to speak, the diflferent sub-
municipalities.

While I was thinking these things. Lady Torquilin poked
me with her parasol from the other end of the omnibus.
' Tell him to stop ! ' she said, and I did ; at least, the gentleman
in the comer made the request for me. That gentleman in the

134

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

corner is a feature of your omnibus system, 1 think. His arm,
or his stick, or his umbrella, is always at the service oi any lady

' THAT OENTIjEMAN IN THE CORNER IS A FEATURE OF YOUR OMNIBUS SYSTEM,

I THINK '

who wants the bell rung. It seems to be a duty that goes with
the corner seat, cheerfully accepted by every man that sits there.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 135

We had arrived in Bond Street, at the dearest place.
Frou) what Lady Torquilin told me, I gathered that Bond Street
was a regular haunt for dearest places ; but it would be im-
possible for any stranger to suppose so from walking through it
— it is so u arrow and crooked and irregular, and the shops are
so comparatively insignificant after the grand sweep of Regent
Street and the wide variety of the circuses. For one, I should
have thought circuses would be the best possible places for busi-
ness in London, not only because the address is so easily remem-
bered, but because once you get into them they are so extremely
difficult to get out of. However, a stranger never can tell.

Inside, the dearest place was a stronger contrast to the
cheapest place than I could describe by any antithesis. There
was an exclusive emptiness about it that seemed to suggest a
certain temerity in coming in, and explained, considered com-
mercially, why the rare visitors should have such an expensive
time of it. One or two tailor-made ladies discussed something
in low tones with an assistant, and beside these there was no-
body but a couple of serious-minded shopwalkers, some very
elegant young ladies-in-waiting, and the dummies that called
your attention to the fashions they were exhibiting. The
dummies were headless, but probably by the variety of their
clothes they struck you as being really the only personalities in the
shop. We looked at some of them before advancing far into the
august precincts of the dearest place, and Lady Torquilin had a
sweeping opinion of them. '■ Hideous ! I call them,' she said ;
but she said it in rather a hushed tone, quite different from the
one she would have used in the cheapest place, and I am sure
the shopwalker did not overhear. ' Bulgarian atrocities ! How
in the world people imagine such things ! And as to setting to

work to 'mdli& them '

£36 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I can't say I agreed with Lady Torquilin, for there was a
distinct idea in all the dresses, and a person always respects an
idea, whether it is pretty or not ; but neither can I profess an
admiration for the fashions of the dearest place. They were
rather hard and unsympathetic ; they seemed to sacrifice every-
thing to be in some degree striking ; their motto seemed to be,
' Let us achieve a difference ' — presumably from the fashions of
places that were only dear in the comparative degree. While
we were looking at them, one of the pale young women strolled
languidly up and remarked, with an absent expression, that one
of them was ' considered a smart little gown, moddam ! ' * Smart
enough, I daresay,' said Lady Torquilin, with a slightly invidious
emphasis on the adjective ; whereat the young woman said
nothing, but looked volumes of repressed astonishment at the
ignorance implied. Lady Torquilin went on to describe the kind
of dress I thought of buying.

' Certainly, moddam ! Will you take a seat, moddam ?
Something quite simple I think you said, moddam, and in
muslin. I'll be with you in one moment, moddam.' And the
young woman crawled away with the negligence that became
the dearest place. After an appreciable time she returned with
her arms full of what they used to call, so very correctly, ' fur-
belows,' in spotted and flowered muslins.

' Dearie me ! ' said Lady Torquilin. ' That's precisely what
I wore when I was a girl ! '

* Yes, moddam ! ' said the young woman, condescending to
the ghost of a smile. ' The old styles are all comin' in again' —
at which burst of responsiveness she suddenly brought herself
up sharply, and assumed a manner which forbade you to pre-
sume upon it.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

137

I picked up one of the garlanded muslins and asked the price
of it. It had three frills round the bottom and various irrele-
vant ribbon-bows.

Certainly, moddam !
as

One
moment, moddam ! ' as she
looked at the ticket attached.
' This one is seventeen guineas,
moddam. Silk foundation. A
Paris model, moddam, but I
dare say we could copy it for
you for less.'

Lady Torquilin and I made
a simultaneous movement, and
looked at each other in the
expressive way that all ladies
understand who go shopping
with each other.

'Thanks!' I said. <It is
much too expensive for me.'

'We have nothing of this
style under fifteen guineas,
moddam,' replied the young
woman, with a climax of weary
frigidity. ' Then, shall we go ? '
I asked Lady Torquilin — and
we went.

• What a price ! ' said Lady
Torquilin, as we left the dearest
place behind us.

I said I thought it was an insult — eighty-five dollars for a
ready-made sprigged muslin dress ! — to the intelligence of the

THE YOUNG WOMAN CRAWLED AWAY WITH
THE NEGLIGENCE THAT BECAME THE
DEAREST PLACE '

138

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

people who were expected to buy it. That, for my part, I should
feel a distinct loss of self-respect in buying anything at the

dearest place. What would I be
paying for ?

' For being able to say that it
came from the dearest place,' said
Lady Torquiiin. 'But I thought
you Americans didn't mind what
anything cost.'

That misconception of Lady
Torquilin's is a popular one, and 1
was at some pains to rectify it. ' We
don't/ I said, ' if we recognise the
fairness of it ; but nobody resents
being imposed upon more than an
American, Lady Torquiiin. We
have our idiots, like other nations,
and I daresay a good many of them
come to London every year and deal
exclusively at the dearest place ; but
as a nation, though we don't scrimp,
we do like the feeling that we are
paying for value received.'

' Well,' said Lady Torquiiin, ' I
believe that is the case. I know
Americans talk a great deal about
the price of things — more, I consider,
than is entertaining sometimes.' I
said I knew they did — it was a
national fault — and what did Lady Torquiiin think the dress
I had on cost, just to compare it with that muslin, and

*A PERSON OF GREAT DIGNITY
IN HIGH, BLACK SLEEVES '

AN AMERICAN CTRL IN LONDON 139

Chicago was by no means a cheap place for anything. Lady
Torquilin said she hadn't an idea — our dollars were so difficult
to reckon in; but what did 1 think liers came to — and not
a scrap of silk lining about it. And so the time slipped away
until we arrived in the neighbourhood of Cavendish Square,
at what Lady Torquilin called ' the happy medium,' where
the windows were tempting, and the shopwalker smiled, and
the lady-in-waiting was a person of great dignity, in high,
black sleeves, with a delightful French accent when she talked,
which she very seldom forgot, and only contradicted when she
said ' 'Ow ' and ' 'elliotrope,' and where things cost just about
what they did in America. I have gone very patiently ever
since to the happy medium, partly to acquire the beautiful com-
posure of the lady-in-waiting, partly to enjoy the respect
which all Americans like so much in a well-conducted English
shop, and partly because at the happy medium they understand
how to turn shopping into the pleasant artistic pastime it ought
to be, which everybody in America is in far too much of a hurry
to make a fortune and retire to do for his customers. I am on
the most agreeable footing with the lady in the sleeves now, and
I have observed that, as our acquaintance progresses, her com-
mand of English consonantal sounds remarkably increases. But
I have never been able to reconcile myself, even theoretically,
either to the cheapest place, in the Edgware Road, or the dearest
place, in Bond Street.

T^O

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XIII

S a nation I can't bear 'em — indi-
vidually, I like 'em fairly well ,' read
out Lady Torquilin from a letter at break-
fast. ' Bless me ! ' my friend went on,
' she's talking about Americans, and she's
coming to see " your specimen " — mean-
ing you, child — this very afternoon.'

So she did. She came to see me that

very afternoon — the lady who couldn't

bear us as a nation, but individually liked

us fairly well. Her name was Corke,

and she belonged, Lady Torquilin said, to

the Corkes. I heard all about her before

she came. She was a lady of moderate

income, unmarried, about ten years older

than I was. She knew all about every-

thing. ' You never saw such a reader,

my dear ! I won't say it happens often, for that it does not, but

Peter Corke has made me feel like a perfect ignoramus.'

' Peter Corke ? ' I said, with some surprise.

' Too ridiculous, I call it ! Her proper name is Catharine

Clarissa, but she hates her proper name — sensible girl as she is

in every other way — prefers Peter ! And if she happens to take

a fancy to you, she will tell you all manner of iufercsting

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 141

things. For old holes and corners, I always say, go to Peter
Corke/

' I'm glad/ I said, ' that she likes us, individually, fairly well
— it's the only way in which I would have any chance ! But
she won't like my accent.'

* If she doesn't,' Lady Torquilin said, ' I promise you she'll
tell you. And you won't mind a bit.*

When Miss Corke arrived I forgot entirely about the doubt-
fulness of her liking me — I was too much absorbed in liking her.
She was rather a small person, with a great deal of dignity in
her shoulders and a great deal of humour in her face — the most
charming face I have seen in England, and I can't even make
an exception in favour of the Princess of Wales. I may tell you
that she had delightful twinkling brown eyes, and hair a shade
darker, and the colour and health and energy that only an
English woman possesses at thirty, without being in the least
afraid that you could pick her out in the street, or anywhere —
she would not like that — and being put in print, so that
people would know her, at all ; it's a thing I wouldn't do on any
account, knowing her feelings. It is onl}^ because I am so well
convinced that I can't tell you what she was like that I try,
which you may consider a feminine reason, if you want to.
Miss Peter Corke's personality made you think at once of Santa
Glaus and a profound philosopher — could you have a more diffi-
cult combination to describe than that ? While you listened to
a valuable piece of advice from her lips you might be quite
certain that she had an orange for you in the hand behind her
back ; and however you might behave, you would get the
orange. Part of her charm was the atmosphere of gay benefi-
cence she carried about with her, that made you want to edge
your chair closer to wherever she was sitting ; and part of it

142 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

was the remarkable interest she had in everything that con-
cerned you — a sort of interest that made you feel as if such in-
formation as you could give about yourself was a direct and
valuable contribution to the sum of her knowledge of humanity ;
and part of it was the salutary sincerity of everything she had
to say in comment, though I ought not to forget her smile,
which was a great deal of it. T am sure I don't know why I
speak of Miss Peter Corke in the past tense, however. She is
not dead — or even married ; I cannot imagine a greater misfor-
tune to her large circle of friends in London.

* Two lumps, please,' begged Miss Corke of me in the
midst of a succession of inquiries about Lady Torquilin's cough,
whether it could possibly be gout, or if she had been indulging
in salmon and cucumber lately, in which case it served her
perfectly right. * What a disappointment you are ! Why don't
you ask me if I like it with all the trimmings ? '

^ The trimmings ? ' I repeated.

* Certainly ! the sugar and milk ! Fancy being obliged to
explain Americanisms to an American ! ' said Miss Corke to
Lady Torquilin.

' Is trimmings an Americanism ? ' T asked. ' I never heard
it before. But I dare say it is an expression peculiar to Boston,
perhaps.'

' You had better not have any doubt,' said Miss Corke,
with mock ferocity, ' of anything you hear in England.'

' I've heard fixings often at home,' I declared, ' but never
trimmings.*

' Oh ! ' remarked Miss Corke, genially ; * then fixings is the
correct expression.'

' I don't know,' I said, ' about its being the correct expres-
sion. Our washerwoman uses it a good deal.'

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 143

' Oil ! ' said Miss Corke, with an indescribable inflection of
amusement; and then she looked at me over the top of
her teacup, as much as to say, ^you had better not go too
far ! '

* Are your father and mother living ? ' she asked ; and just
tlien I noticed that it was twenty minutes past four by the
clock. I answered Miss Corke in the affirmative, and naturally
I was glad to be able to ; but I have often wondered since why
that invariable interest in the existence or non-existence of a
person's parents should prevail in England as it does, I have
seldom been approached by any one in a spirit of kindly curiosity
with a different formula. 'Any brothers and sisters?' Miss
Corke went on. * When did you come ? Where did you go
first ? How long do you mean to stay ? What have you seen ?
Did you expect us to be as we are, or do we exceed your expec-
tations ? Have you ever travelled alone before ? Are you quite
sure you like the feeling of being absolutely independent?
Don't you love our nice old manners and customs ? and won't
you wish when you get back that you could put your President
on a golden throne, with an ermine robe, and a sceptre in his
right hand ? '

Miss Corke gave me space between these questions for
brief answers, but by the time I looked at the clock again, and
saw that it was twenty -five minutes past four, to the best of my
recollection, she had asked me twelve. I liked it immensely — it
made conversation so easy ; but I could not help thinking, in
connection with it, of the capacity for interrogation, which I had
always heard credited exclusively to Americans.

* Peter,' said Lady Torquilin at last, a little tired of it, ' ask
something about me ; I haven't seen you for weeks.'

* Dear lady,' said Peter, ' ol' course 1 will. But this is some-

144 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

thing new, you see, so one takes an ephemeral — very ephemeral !
— interest in it.'

Lady Torquilin laughed. * Well ! ' said she, * there's nothing
more wonderful than the way it gets about alone.'

Then I laughed too. 1 did not hnd anything in the least
objectionable in being called an ' it ' by Miss Corke.

' So you've been in England a whole month ! ' said she.
'And what do you think you have observed about us? Basing
your opinion,' said Miss Corke, with serio-coraicality, ' upon the
fact that we are for your admiration, and not for your criticism,
how do you like us ? '

I couldn't lielp it. * Individually,' I said, ' I like ^ on fairly
well — as a nation, I can't '

* Oh ! ' cried Miss Corke, in a little funny squeal, rushing at
Lady Torquilin, 'you've gone and told her — you wicked
woman !' — and she shook Lady Torquilin, a thing I didn't see
how she dared to do. ' I can't bear it, and I won't ! J^rivate
correspondence — I wonder you're not ashamed ! ' — and Miss
Corke sank into a chair, and covered her face with her hands
and her handkerchief, and squealed again, more comically than
before. By the time I had been acquainted with Miss Corke
a fortnight I had learned to look for that squeal, and to love it.
She probably will not know until she reads this chapter how
painfully I have tried to copy it, and how vainly, doubtless
owing to the American nature of my larynx. But Miss Corke
had a way of railing at you that made you feel rather pleased
that you had misbehaved. 1 could see that it had that effect
upon Lady Torquilin, though all she did was to smile broadly,
and say to Miss Peter, ' Hoity-toity ! Have another cup of tea.'

Tn the course of further conversation, Miss Corke said that
she saw my mind must be improved immediately if she had to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

145

do it herself; and wheje would I like to begin. I said almost
anywhere, I didn't think it much mattered ; and Miss Corke said,
Well, that was candid on my part, and augured favourably, and

YOU WICKED WOMAN

was T architectu-rurally inclined ? I said I thought I was,
some ; and out came Miss Peter Corke's little shriek again.
*Tell her,' she said, prodding Lady Torquilin, 'that we say

146 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

" rather " over here in that connection ; I don't know her well
enough.' And I was obliged to beg Lady Torquilin to tell heft
that we said * some ' over there in that connection, though not
in books, or university lectures, or serious-minded magazines.

' Oh, come ! ' said Miss Corke, ' do you mean to say youVe
got any serious-minded magazines ? '

' I'll come anywhere you like,' I responded. ' Have you got
any light-minded ones ? '

Whereat Miss Corke turned again to Lady Torquilin, and
confided to her that I was a flippant young woman to live in the
same house with, and Lady Torquilin assured her that there
wasn't really any harm in me — it was only my way.

' H'm ! ' remarked Miss Peter, perking up her chin in a
manner that made me long to be on kissing terms with her — ^ the
American way ! ' As I write that it looks disagreeable ; as Peter
Corke said it, it was the very nectar and ambrosia of prejudiced
and favourable criticism. And I soon found out that whatever
she might say, her words never conveyed anything but herself
— never had any significance, I mean, that your knowledge of
her delightful nature did not endorse.

* I suppose we'd better begin with the churches, don't you
think ? ' said Miss Corke to Lady Torquilin. ' Poor dear ! I
dare say she's never seen a proper church ! '

' Oh, yes ! * I said, ' you have never been in Chicago, Miss
Corke, or you wouldn't talk like that. We have several of the
finest in America in our city ; and we ourselves attend a very
large one, erected last year, the Congregational — though momma
has taken up Theosophy considerably lately. It's built in amphi-
theatre style, with all the latest improvements — electric light,
and heated with hot water all through. It will seat five thou-
sand people on spring-edged cushions, and has a lovely kitchen

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

147

attached for socials ! ' ' Built in the amphitheatre style !
repeated Miss Oorke. ' To seat five thousand people on spring-

11
I

'"REMEMBER, YOUNG LADY, THREE-THIRTY Sharp ^^

148 AN AMLRJCAN GIRL IN LONDON

edged cushions — with a kitchen attached ! And now, will you
tell me immediately what a " social " is ? '

' There are different kinds, you know,' 1 replied. ' Ice-cream
socials, and oyster socials, and ordinary tea-meetings ; but they
nearly always have something to eat in them — a dry social with
only a collection never amounts to much. And they're generally
held in the basement of the church, and the young ladies of the
congregation wait.'

Miss Corke looked at me, amused and aghast. * You see, I
was quite right,' she said to Lady Torquilin. ^ She never has !
But I think this really ought to be reported to the Foreign
Missions Society ! I'll take you to the Abbey to-morrow,' she
went on. ' You like " deaders," don't you ? The time between
might be profitably spent in fasting and meditation ! Good-bye,
dear love ! ' — to Lady Torquilin. ' No, you will not come down,
either of you ! Remember, young lady, three-thirty, sharp, at
the entrance everybody uses, op]^osite Dizzy's statue — the same
which you are never on any account to call Dizzy, but always
Lord Disraeli, with the res] ect that becomes a foreigner ! Good-
bye V

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

149

XIV

HAT do you mean ? ' asked Miss
Corke, indicating the Parlia-
ment House clock with a re-
proachful parasol, as I joined
her a week from the following
afternoon outside the south
cloister of the Abbey. We
had seen a good deal of her in
the meantime, but the Abbey
visit had been postponed.
Her tone was portentous, and
I looked at the clock, which
said ten minutes to four. I
didn't quite understand, for I
thought I was in pretty good
time. ' Didn't you say I was
to come about now ? ' I inquired. Miss Corke made an inar-
ticulate exclamation of wrath.

' Half-past three may be " about now " in America ! ' she
said, ' but it isn't here, as you may see by the clock. Fancy
my having made an appointment with a young person who had
an idea of keeping it " about " the time I had condescended to
fix ! ' — and Miss Corke put down her parasol as we entered the
cloisters, and attempted to wither me with a glance. If the

ISO ^iN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

glance had uot had the very jolliest smile of good-fellowship
inside it I don't know what I should have done, but as it was
I didn't wither ; though I regretted to hear that I had missed
the Jerusalem Chamber by being late, where King Henry died
— because he always knew he should expire in a place of that
name, and so fulfilled prophecy, poor dear, by coming to kneel
on the cold stone at St. Edward's shrine, where he would always
say his prayers, and nowhere else, immediately after a number
of extraordinary Christmas dinners — and Miss Corke was not in
the least sorry for me, though it was a thing I ought to see,
and we positively must come another day to see it.

We walked up past the little green square that you see in
wide spaces through the side pillars, where the very oldest old
monks lie nameless and forgotten, whose lives gathered about
the foundations of the Abbey — the grey foundations in the grey
past— and sank silently into its history just as their bodily
selves have disappeared long ago in the mosses and grasses
that cover them. ' No, Miss Mamie Wick, of Chicago, I will
not hurry ! ' said Miss Corke, ' and neither shall you ! It is a
sacrilege that I will allow no young person in my company to
commit — to go through these precincts as if there were anything
in the world as well worth looking at outside of them.'

I said I didn't want to hurry in the very least.

' Are you sure you don't; — inside of you ? ' she demanded.
, Certain you have no lurking private ambition to do the Abbey
in two hours and get it over ? Oh, I know you ! I've brought
lots of you here before.'

' I know,' I said, '- as a nation we do like to get a good deal
for our time.'

'It's promising when you acknowledge it' — Miss Corke
laughed. ' All the old abbots used to be buried here np to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 151

the time of Henry III. ; that's probably one of 'em * — and Miss
Corke's parasol indicated a long, thick, bluish stone thing lying
on its back, with a round lump at one end and an imitation of
features cut on the lump. It lay there very solidly along the
wall, and I tried in vain to get a point of view from which it
was expressive of anything whatever. ' One of the early
abbots ? ' said I, because it seemed necessary to say something.

' Probably,' said Miss Corke.

' Which particular abbot should you say ? ' I asked, deferen-
tially, for I felt that I was in the presence of something very
early English indeed, and that it became me to be impressed,
whether I was or not.

' Oh, I don't know,' Miss Peter Corke replied. ' Postard,
perhaps, or Crispin, or maybe Vitalis ; nobody knows.'

' I suppose it would have been easier to tell a while ago,' I
said. 'There is something so worn about his face, I should
think even the other early abbots would find a difficulty in
recognising him now. Nothing Druidical, I suppose ? '

' Certainly not. If you are going to be disrespectful,' said
Miss Corke, ' I shall take you home at once.' Whereat I pro-
tested that I did not dream disrespect — that he looked to me
quite as much like a Druid as anything else. I even ventured
to say that, if she had not told me he was an early abbot, I might
have taken him for something purely and entirely geological.
The whole of this discussion took place at what stood for the
early abbot's feet, and occupied some little time ; so that, finally.
Miss Corke was obliged to tell me that, if there was one thing
she couldn't bear, it was dawdling, and would I be pleased to
look at the monumental tablet to Mr. Thomas Thynne, of which
she would relate to me the history. So we paused in front of
it, while Miss Corke told me how the gentleman in the bas-
il

152 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

relief chariot was Mr. Thomas Thynne, and the gentlemaa on
horseback, shooting at him with a blunderbuss, was Konigsmark,
accompanied by his brother ; and Konigsmark was in the act of
killing Mr. Thomas Thynne, with the horses getting unmanage-
able, and the two powdered footmen behind in a state of great
agitation, because both Mr. Thomas Thynne and Konigsmark
were attached to the same lady — a young widow lady with a
great deal of money — and she liked Mr. Thomas Thynne best,
which was more than Mr. Konigsmark could bear. So Mr.
Konigsmark first swore properly that he would do it, and then
did it — all in Pall Mall, when Mr. Thomas was in the very act
of driving home from paying a visit to the widow. It was a
most affecting story, as Peter Corke told it, especially in the
presence of the memorial with a white marble Cupid pointing to
it, erected by Mr. Thynne's bereaved relatives ; and I was glad
to hear that the widow had nothing to do with Mr. Konigsmark
afterwards, in spite of the simplicity and skill of his tactics with
regard to his rival. I thought the history of the event quite in-
teresting enough in itself, but Miss Corke insisted that the point
about it really worthy of attention was the fact that the younger
Mr. Konigsmark was the gentleman who afterwards went back
to Hanover, and there flirted so disgracefully with Sophia
Dorothea of Zell that King George said he wouldn't have it,
and shut her up in Ahlden Tower for thirty-two years. Miss
Corke explained it all in a delightful kindergarten way,
mentioning volumes for my reference if I wanted to know more
about the incident. ' Although this,' she said, ' is the sort of
thing you ought to have been improving your mind with ever
since you learned to read. I don't know what you mean by it,
coming over here with a vast unbroken field of ignorance about
our celebrities. Do you think time began in ] 776 ? ' At which

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 153

I retaliated, and said that far from being an improving incident,
I wasn't sure that it was altogether respectable, and I didn't
know of a single church in Chicago that would admit a bas-
relief of it, with or without a mourning Cupid. In return to
which Miss Corkd could find nothing better to say than ' Lawks ! '
' Don't tell me youVe read the " Spectator ! " ' she remarked
a little farther on, ' because I know you haven't — you've read
nothing but W. D. Howells and the "New York World!"
Oh, you have ? Several essays ! When, pray ? At school —
I thought so ! When you couldn't help it ! Well, I know
you've forgotten Sir Roger de Coverley, in the Abbey, stopping
Addison here, to tell him that man thrashed his grandfather!
His own grandfather, you know, not Addison's!' And we
contemplated the studious effigy of Dr. Busby until I told
Miss Corke that I wanted to be taken to the Poets' Corner.
' Of course you do,' said she ; ' there are rows of Americans there
now, sitting looking mournful and thinking up quotations. If
I wanted to find an American in London, I should take up my
position in the Poets' Corner until he arrived. You needn't
apologise — it's nothing to your discredit,' remarked Miss Corke,
as we turned in among your wonderful crumbling old names
past the bust of George Grote, historian of Greece. ' Of course
you have heard of his lady-wife,' she said, nodding at Mr. Grote
I ventured the statement that she was a very remarkable person
* Well, she was ! ' returned Miss Corke, ' though that's a shot
in the dark, and you might as well confess it. One of ihe most
remarkable women of her time. All the biographers of the day
wrote about her — as you ought to know, intimately. I have
the honour of the acquaintance of a niece of hers, who told me
the other day that she wasn't particularly fond of her. Great
independence of character ! ' ^

154 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* Where is Chaucer?' I asked, wishing to begin at the
beginning.

' Just like every one of you that I've ever brought here ! '
Miss Cork© eixclaimed, leading the way to the curious old
rectangular grey tomb in the wall. ' The very best — ^the very
oldest — immediately ! Such impatience I never saw ! There
now — make out that early English lettering, if you can, and be
properly sorry that you've renounced your claim to be proud
of it ! '

' I can't make it out, so I'll think about being sorry later,' I
said. * It is certainly very remarkable ; he might almost have
written it himself Now, where is Shakespeare ? '

' Oh, certainly ! ' exclaimed Miss Corke. ' This way. And
after that you'll declare you've seen them all. But you might
just take time to understand that you're walking over " rare
Ben Jonson ! " who is standing up in his old bones down there
as straight as you or I. Insisted — as you probably are not
aware — on being buried that way, so as to be ready when
Gabriel blows his trumpet in the morning. I won't say that
he hasn't got his coat and hat on. Yes, that's Samuel —
I'm glad you didn't say Ben was the lexicographer. Milton
— certainly — it's kind of you to notice him. Blind, you re-
member. The author of several works of some reputation — in
England.'

' I knew he was blind,* I said, ' and used to dictate to his
daughters. We have a picture of it at home.' I made this
remark very innocently, and Miss Corke looked at me with a
comical smile. ' Bless it and save it ! ' she said, and then, with
an attempt at a reproach, ' What a humbug it is ! '

We looked at Shakespeare, supreme among them, predicting
solemn dissolution out of ' The Tempest,' and turned from him

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

155

.^^^

WE LOOKED AT SHAKESPEARE,
SUPREME AMONG THEM '

156

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

to Gay, whose final reckless word I read with as much astonish-
ment as if I had never heard of it before.

• Life's a jest, and all things show it ;
I thought so once, ^nd now I know it,

has no significance at all read in an American school-book two
thousand miles, and a hundred and fifty years from the writer

^..--^

I.L-

' " life's a jest, and all things

SHOW IT ;
I THOUGHT SO ONCE, AND NOW I
KNOW IT " '

You see our Presidents differ

of it, compared with the grim
shock it gives you when you
see it actually cut deep in the
stone, to be a memorial always
of a dead man somewhere not
far away.

'That you should have
heard of Nicholas Rowe,' said
Miss Corke, ' is altogether too
much to expect. Dear me !
it would be considerably easier
to improve your mind if it had
ever been tried before. But
he was poet-laureate for George
the First — you understand the
term ? '

' I think so,' I said. ' They
contract to supply the Royal
Family with poetry, by the
year, at a salary. We have
nothing of the kind in America,
so. They might not all like

poetry. And in that case it would be wasted, for there isn't a
magazine in the country that would take it second-hand.'

' Besides having no poets who could do it properly, poor

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 157

things ! ' said Miss Corke — to which I acceded without difficulty.
' Well, Mr. Rowe was a poet-laureate, though that has nothing
whatever to do with it. But he had a great friend in Mr. Pope
— Pope, you know him — by reputation — and when he and his
daughter died, Mr. Pope and Mrs. Rowe felt so bad about it
that he wrote those mournful lines, and she had 'em put up.
Now listen ! —

To those so mourned in death, so lov'd in life.
The childless parent and the widowed wife —

meaning the same lady ; it was only a neat way they had of
doubling up a sentiment in those days ! —

With tears inscribes this monumental sfone,
That holds their ashes and expects her own I

and everybody, including Mr. Pope, thought it perfectly sweet
at the time. Then what does this degenerate widow do, after
giving Mr. Pope every reason to believe that she would fulfil
his poetry ? '

' She marries again,' I said.

' Quite right ; she mariies again. But you needn't try to
impose upon me, miss ! To come to that conclusion you didn't
require any previous information whatever! She marries again,
and you can't think how it vexed Mr. Pope.*

' I know,' I said, ' he declared that was the last of his lend-
ing the use of his genius to widows ' — for I had to assume some
knowledge of the subject.

Miss Corke looked at me. ' You idjit ! ' she said. * He did
nothing of the sort.'

' Michael Drayton ! ' I read amongst other names which
surprised me by their unfamiliarity ; for in America, whatever
Peter Corke may say, if we have a strong point, it is names —

158 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' who was Michael Drayton ? and why was he entitled to a
bust ? '

* He wrote the *' Polyolbion," ' said Miss Corke, as if that
were all there was to say about it.

' Do you know,' I said — ' I am ashamed to confess it,
but even of so well-known and interesting a work of genius
as the " Polyolbion " I have committed very few pages to
memory ! '

' Oh ! ' returned Miss Peter, ' you're getting unbearable !
There's a lovely epitaph for you, of Edmund Spenser's, " whose
divine spirrit needs noe othir witnesse than the workes which
he left behind him." You will kindly make no ribald remarks
about the spelling, as I perceive you are thinking of doing.
Try and remember that we taught you to spell over there.
And when Edmund Spenser was buried, dear damsel, there
came a company of poets to the funeral — Shakespeare, doubt-
less, among them — and cast into his grave all manner of
elegies.'

* Of their own composition ? ' I inquired.

^ Stupid ! — certainly ! And the pens that wrote them ! '
I said I thought it a most beautiful and poetic thing to have
done, if they kept no copies of the poems, and asked Miss
Corke if she believed anything of the kind would be possible
now.

* Bless you ! ' she replied. ' In the first place, there aren't
the poets ; in the second place, there isn't the hero-worship ;
in the third place, the conditions of the poetry-market are dif-
ferent nowadays — it's more expensive than it used to be ; the
poets would prefer to send wreaths from the florist's — you can
get quite a nice one for twelve-and-six ; ' and Peter Corke made
a little grimace expressive of disgust with the times. ' We

AN AMERICAN GinL tN LONDON 159

used to have all poets and no public, now we have all public
and no poets ! ' she declared, ' now that he is gone — and
Tennyson can't live for ever.' Miss Corke pointed with her
parasol to a name in the stone close to my right foot. I had
been looking about me, and above me, and everywhere but
there. As I read it I took my foot away quickly, and went
two or three paces off. It was so unlooked-for, that name, so
new to its association with death, that I stood aside, held by a
sudden sense of intrusion. He had always been so high and so
far off in the privacy of his genius, so revered in his solitudes,
so unapproachable, that it took one's breath away for the
moment to have walked unthinkingly over the grave of Robert
Browning. It seemed like taking an advantage one would
rather not have taken — even to stand aside and read the plain,
strong name in the floor, and know that he, having done with
life, had been brought there, and left where there could be no
longer about him any wonderings or any surmises. Miss Corke
told me that she knew him, * as one can say one knows such a
man,' and how kindly his interest was in all that the ordinary
people of his acquaintance like herself were thinking and doing ;
but the little, homely stories she related to me from her personal
knowledge of him seemed curiously without relevance then.
Nothing mattered, except that he who had epitomised greatness
in his art for the century lay there beneath his name in the
place of greatness. And then, immediately, from this grave of
yesterday, there came to me light and definition for all the
graves of the day before. It stole among the quaint lettering
of the inscriptions, and into the dusty corners of the bas-reliefs,
and behind all the sculptured scrolls and laurels, and showed
me what I had somehow missed seeing sooner — all that shrined
honour means in England; and just in that one little corner

i6o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

how great her possessions are! Miss Corke said something
about the royal tombs and the coronation chair, and the wax
effigies in the chamber above the Islip Chapel, and getting on ;
but, ' if you don't mind,' I said, ' I should like to sit down here
for a while with the other Americans and think.'

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

i6i

r is said that there are four hundred
people in New York who are exclusive,
and there are a few more on
Beacon Hill in Boston, and in
Philadelphia. But most Ameri-
cans are opposed to exclusiveness.
I know that nothing of the sort
flourishes in Chicago. Generally
and individually, Americans be-
lieve that every man is as good as
his neighbour ; and we take pains to proclaim our belief when-
ever the subject of class distinction is under discussion.
Poppa's views, however — representing those of the majority in
an individual, as we hope they soon may do in a senator — are
strongly against any theory of exclusiveness whatever. And I
will say for poppa, that his principles are carried out in his
practice ; for, to my knowledge, neither his retirement from busi-
ness and purchase of a suburban lakeside residence, nor even
his nomination for the Senate, has made the slightest difference
in his treatment of any human being. And yet Americans
coming over here with all their social theories in their trunks,
so to speak, very carefully packed to be ready at a moment's
notice, very seldom seem to find a use for them in ^England. I
was brought up, you might say, on poppa's, and momma agreed

c62 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

with him on most points, with the one qualification that, if you
couldn't have nice society, it was much better to go without
any — ^ Scarce company, welcome trumpery ! ' momma always
declared would never be her motto. Yet since I have been in
England I have hardly had occasion to refer to them at all. I
listened to an American author about it a while ago, before 1
had any intention of writing my own English experiences, and
he said the reason Americans liked the exclusiveness over here
was because its operation gave them such perfect types to study,
each ol" its own little circle ; while at home we are a great inde-
terminate, shifting mass, and a person who wanted to know us as
a nation must know us very largely as individuals first. I thought
that might be a very good reason for an author, especially for
an author who liked an occasional cup of tea with a duchess ;
but I was not sure that it could be claimed by a person like
myself, only over on a visit, and not for any special purpose of
biological research. So I went on liking the way you shut
some people out and let other people in, without inquiring
further as to why I did — it did not seem profitable, especially
when I reflected that my point of view was generally from the
inside. My democratic principles are just the same as ever,
though — a person needn't always approve what she likes. I
shall take them back quite unimpaired to a country where they
are indispensable — where you really want them, if you are going
to be comfortable, every day of your life.

Nevertheless, I know it was the * private ' part of the
' Private View ' that made me so anxious to go to the Academy
on the first day of May this year. The pictures would be there
the second day, and the day following, and days indefinitely
after that, and for a quarter of a dollar I could choose my own
time and circumstances of going to see them. I might, weather

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 163

permitting, have taken my ' view ' of the Academy in the pub-
licity of five or six other people who, like me, would have paid
a shilling a-piece to get in ; but I found myself preferring the
privacy of the five or six hundred who did not pay — preferring
it immensely. Besides, I had heard all my life of the ' Private
View.' Every year there are special cablegrams about it in our
newspapers — who were there, and what they wore — generally
to the extent of at least a column and a half Our special cor-
respondents in London glory in it, and rival each other, adjec-
tivally, in describing it. Lady Torquilin had been talking about
it a good deal, too. She said it was ' a thing to see,' and she
meant to try to get me an invitation. Lady Torquilin went
every year.

But when the thirtieth day of April came, Lady Torquilin
told me in the evening, after dinner, that she hadn't been able to
manage it, and showed me the card upon which the ' President
and Members of the Royal Academy of Arts " requested " the
pleasure of the company of Lady Torquilin,' only, '• Not trans-
ferable.'

' It's very tiresome of them,' said Lady Torquilin, 'to put
that on. It means that you positively must not give it to any-
body. Otherwise I would have handed it over to you, child,
with the greatest pleasure — I don't care a pin's point about
going, and you could have gone with the Pastelle-Browns. Bui
there it is ! '

Of course, nothing would have induced me to take Lady
Torquilin's invitation, and deprive her of the pleasure of going;
but I pinned her veil at the back, and saw her off down the
elevator, next day at two, with an intensity of regret which
cannot come often in the course of an ordinary lifetime. I was
describing my feelings in a letter, addressed, I think, to Mr.

OUB SPECIAL CORRESPONDENTS GLORY IN IT

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 165

Winterhazel, when, about an hour later, Lady Torquilin appeared
again, flushed with exertion, and sank panting into a chair.
* Get ready, child ! ' said she. ' I'd wear your tailor-made ; those
stairs will kill me, but there was— no time — to waste on the
lift. I can get you in — hurry up your cakes ! '

' But am I invited ? ' I asked.

* Certainly you are — by a Royal Academician in person — so

%/'

I flew, and in twenty minutes Lady Torquilin and I were
engaged in our usual altercation with a cabman on the way to
Burlington House. When he had got his cab and animal well
into a block in Bond Street, and nothing of any sort could
possibly happen without the sanction of a Jove-like policeman at
the crossing, Lady Torquilin took the opportunity of telling me
how it was that she was able to come for me. ' You see,' she
said, ' the very first person 1 had the good luck to meet when I
went in was Sir Bellamy Bellamy — you remember Sir Bellamy
Bellamy at the Mintherringtons ? I tell you frankly that I
wouldn't have mentioned it, my dear, unless he had first, though
I knew perfectly well that what Sir Bellamy Bellamy can't do
in that Academy simply can't be done, for you know I'm the
last one to fush ; but he did. " Where is your young friend ? '
said he. Then I took my chance, and told him how I'd asked
that old screw of a Monkhouse Diddlington for two, and only got
one, and how I couldn't possibly give it to you because it was
printed " Not transferable," and how disappointed you were ;
and he was nice about it. " My dear Lady Torquilin," he said,
*' we were children together, and you never came to me. I
should have been delighted ! "

' " Well," I said, " Sir Bellamy, can't we do anything about
it now ? " " It's rather late in the day," said he. " It is late in

i66 AN AMERJCAN GIRL IN LONDON

the day," said I. " Oh, I say ! " said he, " she must come if she
wants to — any friend of yours. Lady Torquilin " — such a hum-
bug as the man is ! " It's a bit irregular," he went on, " and
we won't say anything about it, but if you like to go and get
her, and see that she carries this in with her " (here Lady Tor-
quilin produced a fat, pale-blue catalogue book), " there won't
be any difficulty. I fancy." So there you are, Miss Wick, pro-
vided with Sir Bellamy Bellamy's own catalogue to admit you
— if ihaHs not a compliment, I don't know what is ! '

' I don't feel as if I had been properly invited,' I said ; ' I'm
afraid I oughtn't to go, Lady Torquilin.'

* Rubbish, child ! ' said she. * Do you want them to send a
deputation for you ? ' And after that, what could I say ?

' Hold up your head, and look perfectly indifferent,' advised
Lady Torquilin, as our hansom deposited us in the courtyard
before the outer steps. ' Don't grasp that catalogue as if it
were a banner ; carry it carelessly. Now follow me.' And
Lady Torquilin, with great dignity, a sense of rectitude, and a
catalogue to which she was properly entitled, followed by me
with vague apprehensions, a bad con&cience, and a catalogue
that didn't belong to me, walked into the Private View. Nobody
said anything, though I fancied one of the two old gentlemen
in crimson and black by the door looked knowingly at the other
when I passed, as much as to say : ' About that tailor-made
there is something fraudulent.' I say I ^ fancied,' though at
the time I was certain they did, because my imagination, of
course, may have had something to do with it. I know I was very
glad of the shelter of Lady Torquilin's unimpeachable respecta-
bility in front. ' There now,' she said, when we were well into
the crowd, ' we're both here, and it's much nicer, isn't it, dear ?
than for you to come with strangers, even if I could have made

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 167

ap my mind that it was right for you to be admitted on a ticket
plainly marked " not transferable " — which I really don't think,
dear. I should have been able to do.'

We moved aimlessly with the throng, and were immediately
overtaken and possessed by the spirit that seemed to be abroad
— a spirit of wonder and criticism and speculation and searching,
that first embraced our nearest neighbours, went off at random
to a curiously-dressed person in perspective, focussed upon a
celebrity in a corner, and spent itself in the shifting crowd.
Lady Torquilin bade me consider whether in all my life before
I had ever seen such remarkable gowns, and I was obliged to con-
fess that I had not. Some of them were beautiful, and some were*
not ; many were what you so very properly and aptly call ' smart,'
and a few were artistic. All of them, pretty and ugly, I might
have encountered at home, but there was one species of ' frock '
which no American, I think, could achieve with impunity. It
was a protest against conventionalism, very much gathered, and
usually presented itself in colours unattainable out of a London
fog. It almost always went with a rather discouraged-looking
lady having a bad complexion, and hair badly done up ; and,
invariably, it dragu^ed a little on one side. I don't know exactly
why that kind of dress would be an impossible adjunct to the
person of an American woman, but I am disposed to believe
there is a climatic reason. We have so much sun and oxygen
in the United States that I think they get into our ideas of
clothes ; and a person upholstered in the way I have mentioned
would very likely find herself specially and disrespectfully
described in the newspapers. But I do not wish to be thought
impertinent about the development of this particular English
dress ideal. It has undoubted points of interest. I had a better
opportunity of observing it at the Academy Soiree in June, when
12

i68 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

it shed abroad the suggestion of a Tennysonian idyll left out all
night.

Lady Torquilin had just pointed out to me two duchesses :
one large and round, who was certainly a duchess by mistake,
and the other tall and beautiful, with just such a curved upper
lip as a duchess ought to have, and a coi;t)net easily imaginable
under her bonnet, and we were talking about them, when I saw
somebody I knew. He was a middle-aged gentleman, and I had
a very interesting association with his face, though I couldn't
for the moment remember his name or where I had met him.
I told Lady Torquilin about it, with the excited eagerness that
a person always feels at the. sight of a familiar face in a foreign
land. ' Some friend of poppa's, I am certain,' I said ; and
although I had only had a glimpse of him, and immediately
lost him in the crowd, we decided to walk on in that direction
in the hope of seeing him again. He reappeared at a distance,
and again we lost him ; but we kept on, and while Lady Torquilin
stopped to chat with her numerous acquaintances I looked out
carefully for my father's friend. I knew that as soon as he saw
me he would probably come up at once and shake hands, and
then the name would come back to me ; and I yearned to ask a
thousand things of Chicago. We came face to face with him
unexpectedly, and as his eye caught mine carelessly it dawned
upon me that the last time I had seen him it was not in a long
grey overcoat and a silk hat — there was something incongruous
in that. Also, I remembered an insolent grizzled chin and
great duplicity. * Oh ! ' I said to Lady Torquilin, ' I don't know
him at all ! It's '

* It's Mr. Bancroft ! ' said Lady Torquilin.

' Who is Mr. Bancroft ? ' said I. ' It's the Abbe Latour ! '

I had enjoyed ' The Dead Heart * so much a fortnight before,
but I was glad I did not bow before I recognised that it was a

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 169

gentleman with whom I had the honour of possessing only ten-
and-sixpence worth of acquaintance.

I saw the various scandals of the year as well. Lady
Torquilin mentioned them, just to call my attention to their
dresses, generally giving her opinion that there had been
altogether too much said about the matter. Lady Torquilin
did not know many of the literary people who were present,
but she indicated Mr. Anstey and Mr. William Black, whose
works are extremely popular with us, and it was a particular
pleasure to be able to describe them when I wrote home next
day. I wanted to see Mr. Oscar Wilde very especially, but
somebody told Lady Torquilin he was at the Grosvenor — ' and
small loss, I consider ! ' said she ; ' he's just like any other man,
dear child, only with more nonsense in his head than most of
them ! * But it was not in the nature of things or people
that Lady Torquilin should like Mr. Oscar Wilde. Before we
went she showed me two or three lady-journalists busy taking
notes.

* There's that nice Miss Jay Penne,' said Lady Torquilin.
' I know all the Jay Pennes — such a literary family ! And Miss
Jay Penne always wants to know what I've got on. I think I
must just speak to her, dear, if you don't mind waiting one
moment ; and then we'll go.

' She asked about you, too, dear,' said my friend when she
rejoined me, with a little nudge of congratulation.

I should, perhaps, have stated before that there were a number
of artists walking around trying to keep away from their own
pictures ; but this I gathered of myself, for, with the exception
of Sir Bellamy Bellamy, who had gone away. Lady Torquilin
did not know any of them. I noticed, too, that the walls of the
rooms we were in were covered with pictures, but they did not
seem to have anything to do with the Private View.

I70

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XVI

ADY POWDERBY'S ball
was the first I attended in
London, and therefore, I
suppose, made the strongest
impression upon me. It
was quite different from a Chicago ball, though the differences
were so intangible — not consisting at all in the supper, or the
music, or the dresses, or the decorations — that I am by no

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 171

means sure that I can explain them ; so I beg that you will not
be disappointed if you fail to learn from my idea of a London
ball what a Chicago ball is like. It is very easy for you to find
out personally, if you happen to be in Chicago.

We went in a four-wheeler at about eleven o'clock, and as
the driver drew up before the strip of carpet that led to the
door, the first thing that struck me was the little crowd of people
standing waiting on either side to watch the guests go in. I
never saw that in Chicago — that patience and self-abnegation.
I don't think the freeborn American citizen would find it con-
sistent with his dignity to hang about the portals of a party to
which he had not been invited. He would take pains, on the
contrary, to shun all appearance of wanting to go.

Inside I expected to find a crowd — I think balls are gene-
rally crowded wherever they are given ; but I also expected to
be able to get through it, in which for quite twenty minutes I
was disappointed. Both Lady Torquilin and I made up our
minds, at one time, to spend the rest of the evening in our
wraps ; but just as we had abandoned ourselves to this there
came a breaking and a parting among the people, and a surge
in one direction, which Lady Torquilin explained, as we took
advantage of it, by the statement that the supper-room had
been opened.

In the cloak-room several ladies were already preparing for
departure. ' Do you suppose they are ill ? ' I asked Lady
Torquilin, as we stood together, while two of the maids repaired
our damages as far as they were able. ' Why do they go home
so early ? '

' Homej child ! ' said Lady Torquilin, with a withering
emphasis. ' They're going on ; I daresay they've got a couple
more dances a-piece to put in an appearance at to night.' Lady

172 AN AMERICAN- GIRL IN LONDON

Torquilin did not approve of what she called ^ excessive riot,'
and never accepted more than one invitation an evening ; so I
was unfamiliar with London ways in this respect. Presently
I had another object-lesson in the person of a lady who came in
and gave her cloak to the attendant, saying, * Put it where you
can get it easily, please. I'll want it again in a quarter of an
hour.' I thought as I looked at her that social pleasures must
be to such an one simply a series of topographical experiments.
I also thought I should have something to say when next I
heard of the hurry and high pressure in which Americans
lived.

' It's of no use,' said Lady Torquilin, looking at the stairs ;
* we can never get up ; we might as well go with the rest
and '

' Have some supper,' added somebody close behind us ; and
Lady Torquilin said : ' Oh, Charlie MafFerton ! ' though why she
should have been surprised was more than I could imagine, for
Charlie Maffertou was nearly always at hand. Wherever we
went to — at homes, or concerts, or the theatre, or sight-seeing,
in any direction, Mr. Mafferton turned up, either expectedly or
unexpectedly, with great precision, and his manner toward Lady
Torquilin was always as devoted as it could be. I have not
mentioned him often before in describing my experiences, and
shall probably not mention him often again, because after a
time I began to take him for granted as a detail of almost every-
thing we did. Lady Torquilin seemed to like it, so I, of course,
had no right to object ; and, indeed, I did not particularly mind,
because Mr. Mafferton was always nice in his manner to me, and
often very interesting in his remarks. But if Lady Torquilin
had not told me that she had known him in short clothes, and
if I had not been perfectly certain she was far too sensible to

AN AMERICAN GIRJ. IN LONDON 173

give her affections to a person so much younger than herself, 1
don't know what I would have thought.

So we went with the rest and had some supper, and, in the
anxious interval during which Lady Torquilin and I occupied a
position in the doorway, and Mr. Mafferton reconnoitred for one
of the little round tables, I discovered what had been puzzling
me so about the house ever since I had come into it. Except
for the people, and the flower decorations, and a few chairs, it
was absolutely empty. The people furnished it, so to speak,
xQOving about in the brilliancy of their dresses and diamonds,
and the variety of their manners, to such an extent that I had
not been able to particularise before what I felt was lacking to
this ball. It was a very curious lack — all the crewel-work, and
Japanese bric-a-brac, and flower lamp-shades, that go to make up
a home ; and the substitute for it in the gay lights and flowers,
and exuberant supper-table, and dense mass of people, gave me
the feeling of having been permitted to avail myself of a brilliant
opportunity, rather than of being invited to share the hospitality
of Lady Torquilin's friends.

' Has Lady Powderby just moved in ? * I asked, as we sat
down around two bottles of champagne, a lot of things glacees,
a triple arrangement of knives and forks, and a pyramid of
apoplectic strawberries.

' Lady Powderby doesn't live here,' Lady Torquilin said.
*No, Charlie, thank you — sweets for you young people if you
like — savouries for me ! ' and my friend explained to me that
Lady Powderby was ^ at home ' at this particular address only
for this particular evening, and had probably paid a good many
guineas house-rent for the night ; after which I tried in vain to
feel a sense of personal gratitude for my strawberries, which I
was not privileged even to eat with my hostess's fork — though,

174 AN AMERICJ^.N GIRL IN LONDON

of course, 1 knew that this was mere sentiment, and that prac-
tically I was as much indebted to Lady Powderby for her
strawberries as if she had grown them herself. And, on general
grounds, I was really glad to have had the chance of attending
this kind of ball, which had not come within my experience
before. I don't think it would occur to anybody in Chicago to
hire an empty house to give an entertainment in ; and though,
now that I think of it. Palmer's Hotel is certainly often utilised
for this purpose, it is generally the charity or benevolent society
hop that is given there.

During supper, while Lady Torquilin was telling Mr. Maffer-
ton how much we had enjoyed the ' Opening,' and how kind his
cousin had been, I looked round. I don't know whether it is
proper to look round at a ball in England — it's a thing I never
should have thought of doing in Chicago, where I knew
exactly what I should see if I did look round — but the im-
personal nature of Lady Powder by 's ball gave me a sense of
irresponsibility to anybody, and the usual code of manners
seemed a vague law, without any particular applicability to
present circumstances. And I was struck, much struck, with
the thorough business-like concentration and singleness of
purpose that I saw about me. The people did not seem much
acquainted, except by twos and threes, and ignored each other,
for the most part, in a calm, high-level way, that was really
educating to see. But they were not without a common senti-
ment and a common aim — they had all come to a ball, where it
devolved upon them to dance and sup, and dance again — to dance
and sup as often as possible, and to the greatest possible advan-
tage. This involved a measuring-up of what there was, which
seemed to be a popular train of thought. There was no undue
levity. If a joke had been made in that supper-room it would

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 175

have exploded more violently than the champagne-bottles.
Indeed, there was as great and serious decorum as was possible
among so many human beings who all required to be fed at once,
with several changes of plates. I observed a great deal of be-
haviour and a great similarity of it — the gentlemen were alike,
and the ladies were alike, except that some of the ladies were a
little like the gentlemen, and some of the gentlemen were a
little like the ladies. This homogeneity was remarkable to me,
considering how few of them seemed to have even a bowing
acquaintance with each other. But the impressive thing was
the solid unity of interest and action as regarded the supper.

We struggled upstairs, and on the first landing met a lady-
relation of our hostess, with whom Lady Torquilin shook hands.

^ You'll never find her,' said this relation, referring to Lady
Powderby. 'The Dyngeleys, and the Porterhouses, and the
Bangley Coffins have all come and gone without seeing her.'
But I may just state here that we did find her, towards morning,
in time to say good-bye.

When I say that the floor of Lady Powderby's (temporary)
ball-room was full, I do not adequately express the fact. It was
replete — it ran over, if that is not too impulsive an expression for
the movement of the ladies and gentlemen who were twirling
round each other upon the floor, all in one direction, to the
music. Witb the exception of two or three couples, whose
excited gyration seemed quite tipsy by contrast, the ball
upstairs was going on with the same profound and determined
action as the ball downstairs. I noticed the same universal
look of concentration, the same firm or nervous intention of
properly discharging the responsibilities of the evening and
the numbers of the programme, on the face of the sweet, fresh
debutante, steadily getting pinker ; of the middle-aged.

176

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

military man, dancing like a disjointed foot-rule ; of the stout
old lady in crimson silk, very low in the neck, who sat against

DANCING LIKE A DISJOINTED FOOT RULE

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 177

the wall. The popular theory seemed to be that the dancing
was something to be Done — the consideration of enjoyment
brought it to a lower plane. And it was an improving sight,
though sad.

Mr. Mafferton asked me for Numbers seven, and nine, and
eleven — all waltzes. I knew he would be obliged to, out of
politeness to Lady Torquilin, who had got past dancing herself;
but I had been dreading it all the time I spent in watching
the other men go round, while Mr. Mafferton sought for a
chair for her. So I suggested that we should try Number
seven, and see how we got on, ignoring the others, and saying
something weakly about my not having danced for so long,
and feeling absolutely certain that I should not be able to
acquit myself with the erectness — to speak of nothing else —
that seemed to be imperative at Lady Powderby's ball. ' Oh !
I am sure we shall do very well,' said Mr. Mafferton. And we
started.

I admire English dancing. I am accustomed to it now, and
can look at a roomful of people engaged in it without a sym-
pathetic attack of vertigo or a crick in my neck. I think it is,
perhaps, as good an exposition of the unbending, unswerving
quality in your national character as could be found anywhere,
in a small way ; but I do not think an American ought to tamper
with it without preliminary training.

Mr. Mafferton and I started- -he with confidence, I with
indecision. You can make the same step with a pair
of scissors as Mr. Mafferton made ; I did it afterwards,
when I explained to Lady Torquilin how impossible it
was that I should have danced nine and eleven with him.
Compared with it I felt that mine was a caper, and the height
of impropriety. You will argue from this that they do not

178

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

go together well ;
and that is quite
correct. We in-
serted ourselves
into the moving
mass, and I went
hopelessly round
the Maypole that
Mr. MafFerton
seemed to have
turned into,
several times.
Then the room
began to reel.
^ Don't you think
we had better
reverse ? ' I

asked ; * I am
getting dizzy,
I'm afraid.' Mr.
Maiferton stop-
ped instantly,
and the room
came right again.
^ Reverse ? ' he
said ; I don't
think I ever heard
of it. I thought
we were getting
on capitally ! '
And when I ex-

EEVERSE?" HE SAID: "l DON T THINK I EVEB HEARD OF IT "

AN AMERICAN GIRL TN LONDON 179

plained to him that reversing meant turning round, and goiiijj-
the other way, he declared that it was quite impracticable —
that we would knock everybody else over, and that he had
never seen it done. After the last argument I did not press
the matter. It took very little acquaintance with Mr. MafFerton
to know that, if he had never seen it doue, he never would
do it. ^ We will try going back a bit,' he proposed instead ;
with the result that after the next four or five turns he
began to stalk away from me, going I knew not whither.
About four minutes later we went back, at my urgent request,
to Lady Torquilin, and Mr. Mafferton told her that we had
'hit it off admirably.' I think he must have thought we did,
because he said something about not having been quite able
t ) catch m}^ step at first, in a way that showed entire satisfaction
with his later performance ; which was quite natural, for Mr.
Mafferton was the kind of person who, so long as he was doing
his best himself, would hardly be aware whether anybody else
was or not.

I made several other attempts with friends of Lady Torquilin
and Mr. Mafferton, and a few of them were partially successful,
though I generally found it advisable to sit out the latter parts
of them. This, when room could be found, was very amusing ;
and I noticed that it was done all the way up two flights of
stairs, and in every other conceivable place that offered two seats
contiguously. I was interested to a degree in one person with
whom I sat out two or three dances running. He was quite a
young man, not over twenty-four or five, I should think — a
nephew of Lady Torquilin, and an officer in the Army, living at
Aldershot, very handsome, and wore an eyeglass, which was.
however, quite a common distinction. I must tell you more
about him again in connection with the day Lady Torquilin and

i8o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I spent at Aldershot at his invitation, because he really deserves
a chapter to himself. But it was he who told me, at Lady
Powderby's ball, referring to the solid mass of humanity that
packed itself between us and the door, that it was with
the greatest difficulty that he finally gained the ball-room.
* Couldn't get in at all at first,' said he, ' and while I was
standin' on the outside edge of the pavement, a bobby has the
confounded impudence to tell me to move along. * " Can't," '
says I — " Tm at the party." '

I have always been grateful to the Aldershot officer for giving
me that story to remember in connection with liady Powderby's
ball, although Mr. MafFerton, when I retailed it, couldn't see
that it was in the least amusing. ' Besides,' he said, ' it's as
old as '* Punch." ' But at the end of the third dance Mr. MafFer-
ton had been sent by Lady Torquilin to look for me, and was
annoyed, I have no doubt, by the trouble he had to take to find
me. And Mr. Mafferton's sense of humour could never be con-
sidered his strong point.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON i8i

XVll

A GREAT many other people were going to Aldershot the
day we went there — so many that the train, which we
were almost too late for, had nowhere two spare seats together.
Just at the last minute, after Lady Torquilin had decided that
we must travel separately, the guard unlocked the door of a
first-class carriage occupied by three gentlemen alone. It
afforded much more comfortable accommodation than the car-
riage Lady Torquilin was crowded into, but there was no time
to tell her, so I got in by myself, and sat down in the left-hand
corner going backward, and prepared to enjoy the landscape.
The gentlemen were so much more interesting, however, that
I am afraid, though I ostensibly looked at the landscape, I paid
much more attention to them, which I hope was comparatively
proper, since they were not aware of it. They were all rather
past middle age, all very trim, and all dressed to ride. There
the similarity among them ended ; and besides being different
from one another, they were all different from any American
gentlemen I had ever met. That is the reason they were so
deeply interesting.

One, who sat opposite me, was fair, with large blue eyes
and an aquiline nose, and a well-defined, clean-shaven face, all
but his graceful moustache. He was broad-shouldered and tall,
and muscular and lean, and he lounged, illuminating his con-
versation with a sweet and easy smile. He looked very clever,

l82

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

and T think he must have been told all his life that he re-
sembled the Duke of Wellington. The one in the other corner,
opposite, was rosy and round-faced, with twinkling blue eyes
and a grey
moustache, and
he made a com-
fortable angle
with his rotund
person and the
wall, crossing his
excellent legs.

'I OSTENSIBLY LOOKED AT THE LANDSCAPE

The one on m} side, of whom I had necessarily an imperfect
view, was very grey, and had a straight nose and a pair of level
eyes, rather pink about the edges, and carefully-cut whiskers

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

183

and sloping shoulders. He did not lounge at all, or even cross
his legs, but sat bolt upright and read the paper. He looked
like a person of extreme views upon propriety, and a rather
bad temper. The first man had the ' Times,' the second the
' Standard,' and the third the ' Morning Post.' I think they
all belonged to the upper classes.

They began to
talk, especially the
two opposite, the
lean man throwing
his remarks and his
easy smiles indo-

THEY WERE ALL DIF-
FERENT FROM AXY AME-
RICAN GENTLEMEN '

lently across the valises on the seat between them. lie spoke of
the traffic in Piccadilly, where ' a brute of an omnibus ' had
taken off a carriage-wheel for him the day before. He was of
opinion that too many omnibuses were allowed to run through
Piccadilly — «a considerable lot' too many. He also found
the condition of one or two streets in that neighbourhood
13

i84 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' disgustinV and was ' goin' to call attention to it.' All in cool,
high, pleasant, indolent tones.

' Write a letter to the " Times," ' said the other, Tvith a
broad smile, as if it were an excellent joke. * I don't mind
reading it.'

The first smiled gently and thoughtfully down upon his
boot. * Will you guarantee that anybody else does ? ' said he.
And they chaffed. My neighbour turned his paper impatiently,
and said nothing.

*What'r'you goin' to ride to-day?' asked the first. His
voice was delightfully refined.

* Haven't a notion. Believe thev've got something for me
down there. Expect the worst ' — which also, for some unknown
reason, seemed to amuse them very much.

* You've heard 'bout Puhbelow, down heah year befoh last —
old Puhbelow, used to c'mand 25th Wangers ? A.D.C. wides
up t' Puhbelow an' tells him he's wanted at headquahtehs im-
mediately. " That case," says Puhbelow, " I'd better walk ! "
An' he did,^ said my ms-dr-vis.

* Lord ! ' returned the other, * I hope it won't come to
that.'

* It's the last day I shall be. able to turn out/ he went on,
ruefully.

' For w'y ? '

* Can't get inside my uniform another year.'

* Supuhfluous adipose tissue ? '

* Rather !' Attended the Levee last week, an' came awa}
black in the face ! At my time o' life a man's got to consider
his buttons. 'Pon my word, I envy you lean dogs.' He ad-
dressed both his neighbour and the pink-eyed man, who took
no notice of the pleasantry, but folded his paper the other way,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 185

and said, without looking up, that that ha(! been a very disas-
trous flood in the United States.

' They do everything on a big scale over thayah,' remarked
the man across from me, genially, ' includin' swindles.'

The round-faced gentleman's eye kindled with new interest.
' Weie you let in on those Kakeboygan Limiteds ? ' he said.
' By Jove ! — abominable ! Never knew a cooler thing ! Must
have scooped in fifty thousand ! '

' It was ve'y painful,' said the other, unexcitedly. * By th'
way, what d'you think of Littlo Toledos ? '

* Don't know anything about 'em. Bought a few — daresay
I've dropped my money.'

'- Wilkinson wanted me to buy. Lunched the beast last
week, expectin' to get a pointer. Confounded sharp scoundrel,
Wilkinson!' And this gentleman smiled quite seraphically.
' Still expectin'. I see Oneida Centrals have reached a pre-
mium. Bought a lot eight months ago for a song. Cheapah
to buy 'em, I thought, than waste more money in somethin' I
knew as little about ! There's luck ! ' This stage of the con-
versation found me reflecting upon the degree of depravity
involved in getting the better of the business capacity which
made its investments on these principles. I did not meditate a
defence for my fellow-countrymen, but I thought they had a
pretty obvious temptation.

The talk drifted upon clubs, and the gentlemen expressed
their preferences. * Hear you're up for the Army and Navy,'
said the rosy-faced one.

* Ye-es. Beastly bore getting in,' returned he of the aqui-
line nose, dreamily.

* How long ? '

* 'Bout two years, I believe. I'm up again for the United

i86 AA AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Service, too. Had ^ fit of economy in '85 — year of the Taran-
tillas smash — you were in that, too, wehn't you ? — an' knocked
off five o' six o' my clubs. They make no end of a wow about
lettin' you in again.'

' Well, the Rag's good enough for me, and the Lyric's
convenient to take a lady to. They say the Corinthian's the
thing to belong to now, though,' said the round gentleman,
tentatively.

* If you have a taste for actresses,' returned the other, with
another tender glance at his boot.

Then it appeared, from a remark from the pink-eyed one,
that he dined at the Carlton four nights out of seven — stood
by the Carlton — hoped he might never enter a better club —
never met a cad there in his life. Fairly lived there when he
wasn't in Manchester.

* D'you live in Manchester ? ' drawled the thin gentleman,
quite agreeably. Now, what was there in that to make the
pink-eyed one angry ? Is Manchester a disreputable place
to live in ? But he was — as angry as possible. The pink
spread all over, under his close-trimmed whiskers and down
behind his collar. He answered, in extremely rasping and
sub-indignant tones, that he had a ' place near it,' and retired
from the conversation.

Then the rotund gentleman stated that there were few
better clubs than the Constitutional; and then, what a view
you could get from the balconies ! * Tremendous fine view,' he
said, ' I tell you, at night, when the place is lighted up, an'
the river in the distance '

' Moon ? ' inquired his companion, sweetly. But the stout
gentleman's robust sentiment failed him at this point, and he

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 187

turned the conversation abruptly to something else — a ' house-
party ' somewhere.

'Have you got what they call a pleasant invitation?' the
other asked ; and the portly one said Yes, in fact he had three,
with a smile of great satisfaction. Just then the train stopped,
and we all changed cars, and I, rejoining Lady Torquilin, lost
my entertaining fellow-passengers. I was sorry it stopped at
that point, because I particularly wanted to know what a house-
party and a pleasant invitation were — they seemed to me to be
idiomatic, and I had already begun to collect English idioms
to take home with me. In fact, I should have liked to have gone
on observing the landscape from my unobtrusive corner all the
way to Aldershot if I could — these gentlemen made such inte-
resting incidents to the journey — though I know I have told
you that two or three times before, without making you under-
stand in the least, I am afraid, how or why they did. There
was a certain opulence and indifference about them which
differed from the kind of opulence and indifference you gene-
rally see in the United States in not being in the least assumed.
They did not ignore the fact of my existence in the corner —
they talked as if they were not aware of it. And they had
worn the conventionalism of England so long that it had become
a sort of easy uniform, which they didn't know they had on.
They impressed you as having always before them, uncon-
sciously, a standard of action and opinion — though their per-
ception of it might be as different as possible — and as conducting
themselves in very direct relation to that standard. I don't
say this because none of them used bad language or smoked
in my presence. The restraint was not to be defined — a delicate,
all-pervasive thing; and it was closely connected with a lack

i88 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

of enthusiasm upon any subject, except the approach to it the
rounded gentleman made with reference to the Constitutional
view. They could not be considered flippant, and yet their
talk played very lightly upon the surface of their minds, making
no drafts upon any reserve store of information or opinion.
This was odd to me. I am sure no three Americans who knew
each other could travel together in a box about six by eight
without starting a theory and arguing about it seriously, or
getting upon politics, or throwing themselves into the conver-
sation in some way or other.

But I have no doufct that, to be impressed with such things
as these, you must be brought up in Chicago, where people are
different. Lady Torquilin was unable to tell me anything about
the gentlemen from my description of them ; she said they were
exactly like anybody else, and as for gambling in stocks, she
had no sympathy with anybody who lost — seeming to think that
I had, and that that was what had attracted my attention.

The young officer was at Aldershot Station to meet us,
looking quite a different person in his uniform. I can't pos-
sibly describe the uniform, or you would know the regiment,
and possibly the officer, if you are acquainted with Aldershot —
which he might not like. But I may say, without fear of
identifying him, that he wore a red coat, and looked very hand-
some in it — red is such a popular colour among officers in
England, and so generally becoming. He was a lieutenant,
and his name was Oddie Pratte. By the time I found this out,
which was afterwards, when Mr. Pratte had occasion to write
two or three letters to me, which he signed in that way, I had
noticed how largely pet names cling to gentlemen in England
— not only to young -. gentlemen in the Army, but even to
middle-aged family men. Mr. Winterhazel's name is Bertram,

* ODDIE PRATTIE '

I90 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

and I should be interested to hear what he would say if any one
addressed him as ' Bertie.' I think he would be mad, as we
say in America. If I had ever called him anything but Mr.
Winterhazel — which I have not — I would do it myself when I
return, just for an experiment. I don't think any gentleman
in the United States, out of pinafores, could be called ' Bertie '
with impunity. We would contract it into the brutal brevity of
*Bert,' and 'Eddie' to 'Ed,' and 'Willie' to 'Will,' and
' Bobby ' to ' Bob.' But it is a real pleasing feature of your
civilisation, this overlapping of nursery tenderness upon maturer
years, and I hope it will spread. What ' Oddie ' was derived
from I never got to know Mr. Pratte well enough to ask, but
he sustained it with more dignity than I would have believed
possible. That is the remarkable — at any rate a remarkable —
characteristic of you English people. You sustain everything
with dignity, from your Lord Mayor's Show to your farthing
change. You are never in the least anjused at yourselves.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 191

XVIII

' A WF'LY glad youVe been able to come ! ' said Mr. Pratte,
-^^ leading the way to his dogcart, quite a marked figure, in
his broad red shoulders, among the dark-coloured crowd at the
station. ' There's so much going on in the village I was afraid
you'd change your mind. Frightful state of funk, I assure you,
every time the post came in ! ' Mr. Pratte spoke to Lady
Torquilin, but looked across at me. We are considerably more
simple than this in America. If a gentleman wants to say some-
thing polite to you, he never thinks of transmitting it through
somebody else. But your way is much the most convenient.
It gives one the satisfaction of being complimented without the
embarrassment of having to reply in properly negative terms.
So it was Lady Torquilin who said how sorry we should have
been to miss it, and I found no occasion for remark until we
were well started. Then I made the unavoidable statement that
Aldershot seemed to be a pretty place, though I am afraid it
did not seriously occur to me that it was.

'Oh, it's a hole of sorts ! ' remarked Mr. Pratte. 'But to
see it in its pristine beauty you should be here when it rains.
It's adorable then ! ' By that time I had observed that Mr.
Pratte had very blue eyes, with a great deal of laugh in them.
His complexion you could find in America only at the close of
the seaside season, among the people who have just come home,
and even then it would be patchy — it would not have the solid

191 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

richness of tint that Mr. Pratte's had. It was a wholesome
complexion, and it went very well with the rest of Mr. Pratte.
I liked its tones of brown and red, and the way it deepened in
his nose and the back of his neck. In fact, I might as well say
in the beginning that I liked Mr. Pratte altogether — there was
something very winning about him. His manner was vari-
able : sometimes extremely flippant, sometimes — and then he let
his eyeglass drop — profoundly serious, and sometimes, when he
had it in mind, preserving a level of cynical indifference that
was impressively interesting, and seemed to stand for a deep and
unsatisfactory experience of life. For the rest, he was just a tall
young subaltern, very anxious to be amused, with a dog.

Mr. Pratte went on to say that he was about the only man in
the place not on parade. There was some recondite reason for
this, which I have forgotten. Lady Torquilin asked him how his
mother and sisters were, and he said : ' Oh, they were as fit as
possible, thanks, according to latest despatches,' which I at once
mentally put down as a lovely idiom for use in my next Chicago
letter. I wanted, above all things, to convince them at home
that I was wasting no time so far as the language was concerned ;
and I knew they would not understand it, which was, of course,
an additional pleasure. I would express myself very clearly
about it though, I thought, so as not to suggest epilepsy or any-
thing of that sort.

Americans are nearly always interested in public buildings.
We are very proud of our own, and generally point them out
to strangers before anything else, and I was surprised that Mr.
Pratte mentioned nothing of the sort as we drove through
Aldershot. So the first one of any size or importance that met
my eye I dsked him about. ' That, I suppose, is your jail ? ' I
said, with polite interest, as we came in sight of a long building

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 193

with that simplicity of exterior that always characterises jails.
Our subaltern gave vent to a suppressed roar. ' What is she
saying now ? ' asked Lady Torquilin, who had not been paying
attention.

^ She says — oh, I say, Auntie, what a score ! Miss Wick
has just pointed out that building as Aldershot jViiZ / '

'Isn't it? 'said I.

' I'm afraid Miss Wick is pullin' our leg, Auntie ! *

Now, I was in the back seat, and what could have induced
Mr. Pratte to charge me with so unparalleled and impossible a
familiarity I couldn't imagine, not being very far advanced in
the language at the time ; but when Mr. Pratte explained that
the buildings I referred to were the officers' quarters, with his
own colonel's at one end — and ' Great Scott ! ' said Mr. Pratte,
going off again, * What would the old man say to that ? ' — I felt
too much overcome by my own stupidity to think about it. I have
since realised that I was rather shocked. It was, of course, im-
possible to mention public buildings again in any connection, and,
although I spent a long and agreeable day at Aldershot, if you
were to ask me whether it had so much as a town pump, I
couldn't tell you. But I must say I am not of the opinion that
it had. To speak American, it struck me as being rather a
one-horse town, though nothing could be nicer than I found it
as a military centre.

We drove straight out of town to the parade-ground, over a
road that wound through rugged-looking, broken fields, yellow
with your wonderful flaming gorse and furze, which struck me
as contJrasting oddly with the neatness of your landscapes gene-
rally. When I remarked upon their uncultivated state, Mr.
Pratte said, with some loftiness, that military operations were
not a(Jvantageously conducted in standing corn — meaning wheat

194

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

— and 1 decided for the rest of the day to absorb information,
as far as possible, without inquiring for it.

It was a lovely day — no clouds, no dust, nothing but blue
sky, and sunshine on the gorse ; and plenty of people, all of
whom seemed to have extreme views upon the extraordinary
fineness of the weather, were on their way to the parade-
ground, chiefly driving in dogcarts. Whenever we passed a

' WE DROVE STRAIGHT OUT OF TOWN TO THE PARADE-GROUND

lady in anything more ambitious, Mr. Pratte invariably saluted
very nicely indeed, and told Lady Torquilin that she was the
wife of Colonel So-and-so, commanding the somethingth some-
thing. And I noticed all through the day what a great deal of
consideration these ladies received from everybody, and what
extraordinary respect was accorded to their husbands. I have
no doubt it is a class distinction of yours, and very proper ; but

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 195

I could not help thinking of the number of colonels and their
families we have at home, and how little more we think of
them on that account. Poppa's head man in the baking-
powder business for years was a colonel — Colonel Canister ; so
is poppa himself — and I never knew either of them show that
they thought anything of it. I suppose momma's greatest friend
is Mrs. Colonel Pabbly, but that is because their tastes are
similar and their families about the same age. For that matter,
I daresay one-third of the visiting-cards momma receives have
* Colonel ' between the ' Mrs.' and the last name. It is really
no particular distinction in America.

We were rather late, and all the best places had been taken
up by the dogcarts of other people. They formed an apparently
unbroken front, or, more properly, back.^ wherever we wanted to
get in. By some extraordinary means, however, more as a
matter of course than anything else — it couldn't have been done
in America — Mr. Pratte inserted his dogcart in an extremely
advantageous position, and I saw opposite, and far off, the long,
long double line of soldiers, stretching and wavering as the
country dipped and swelled under the sky. ' In a minute,'
said Mr. Pratte, 'you'll hear the "furious joy"' — and an instant
later there came splitting and spitting against the blue, from
east to west, and from west to east, the chasing white smoke-
jets of the feu de joie. You have a few very good jokes in
England.

It seemed to me that two of the bands which defied each
other for the rest of the morning began playing at that instant
to prevent any diminution in the furious joy, while the long line
of soldiers broke up into blocks, each block going off somewhere
by itself ; and Mr. Pratte told Lady Torquilin about a dance in
town the night before, where he met a lot of people he loved.

196 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' Was the fair and only one there ? ' Lady Torqnilin inquired
with archness ; and Mr. Pratte's countenance suddenly became
rueful as he dropped his eyeglass. ' Yes,' he said ; * but there's
a frost on — we don't play with each other any more ! ' And
I believe other confidences followed, which I did not feel entitled
to hear, so I divided my attention between the two bands and
the parade. One band stood still at a little distance, and played
as hard as possible continually, and every regiment sent its own
band gloriously on ahead of it with the colonel, generally getting
the full significance out of a Scotch jig, which Mr. Pratte said was
the ' march-past.' It made a most magnificently effective noise.

I hope the person for whose benefit that parade was chiefly
intended — I believe there is always some such person in connec-
tion with parades — was as deeply impressed with it as I was.
It was the first time I had ever seen English soldiers in bulk,
and they presented a threatening solidity which I should think
would be very uninteresting to the enemy. There are more
interstices in our regiments — I think it must be admitted that
we are nationally thinner than you are. Besides, what we are
still in the habit of calling ' our recent unpleasantness ' hap-
pened about a quarter of a century ago, and I shouldn't think
myself that a taste for blood could survive that period of peace
and comfort, to be very obvious. Certainly, Chicago parades
had not prepared me for anything so warlike as this. Not that
I should encourage anybody to open hostilities with us, however.
Though we are thin, we might be found lively.

The cavalry regiments were splendid, with the colonel's horse
as conscious as anybody of what was expected of him, as the
colonel's horse, stepping on ahead ; and particularly the Lancers,
with their gay little pennons flying; but there was not the
rhythmic regularity in their movement that was so beautiful to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

197

see in the infantry coming after. Lady Torquilin found it very
absurd — there were so many points to notice that were more

admirable — that the
parade was that long,
saw from the rear as
once ; but it seemed to
of martial order in it,
That, and the swing of
gleam of the sun on

thing I liked best in the whole
quick, instant crinkle that we
every man bent his knee at
me to have the whole essence
and to hold great fascination,
the Highlanders' kilts, and the
their philabegs, and the pride

• WITH THEIR GAY LITTLE PENNONS FLYING '

of their marching. That Aldershot Highland regiment, with its
screaming bagpipes, seemed, to my Chicago imagination, to have
marched straight out of Inkermann. Then came the South Wales

198 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Borderers, and I heard the story of the Isandula colours, with
the Queen's little gold wreal h above them, that went, preciously
furled, in the middle. I wished then — though it is not consistent
with the Monroe doctrine — that we had a great standing army,
with traditions and a constant possibility of foreign fighting. It
may be discouraging to the increase of the male population, but
it encourages sentiment, and is valuable on that account.

So they all came and passed and went, and came and
passed and went again, three times — the whole ten thousand
cavalry, infantry, artillery, commissariat, ambulance, doctors,
mules, and all— with a great dust, and much music, and a
tremendous rattling and bumping when the long waggons came,
at the rear of which a single soldier sat in each, with his legs
hanging down, looking very sea-sick and unhappy. And they
showed me a prince-subaltern, walking through the dust beside
his company with the others. Nobody seemed to see anything
remarkable in this but me, so I thought it best to display no
surprise. But the nominal nature of some privileges in England
began to grow; upon me. I also saw a mule— a stout, well-
grown, talented mule — who did nob wish to parade. I was glad
of the misbehaviour of that mule. It reduced to some extent
the gigantic proportions of my respect for the British Army.

I met some of the colonels, and their wives and daughters,
afterwards, and in most cases I was lost in admiration of the
military tone of the whole family. Chicago colonels often have
very little that is strikingly military about them, and their families
nothing at all. But here the daughters carried themselves erect,
moved stiffly but briskly, and turned on their heels as sharply as if
they were on the parade-ground. I suppose it would be difficult
to live in such constant association with troops and barracks, and
salutes and sentries, and the word of command, without assimi-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 199

lating somewhat ol" the distinctive charm of these things ; and the
way some of the colonels' ladies clipped their sentences, and held
their shoulders, and otherwise identified themselves with their
regiments, was very taking. It explained itself further when I
saw the ' quarters' in which one or two of them kept house —
very pleasant quarters, where we received most interesting and
delightful hospitality. But it would be odd if domesticity in
a series of rooms very square and very similar, with ' C. 0.'
painted in black letters over all their doors, did not develop
something a little different from the ordinary English lady
accustomed to cornices and portieres.

Then came lunch at the mess, at which, as the colonel took
care of Lady Torquilin, I had the undivided attention of Mr.
Oddie Pratte, which I enjoyed. Mr. Pratte was curious upon
the subject of American girls at home — he told me he began
to believe himself misinformed about them — seriously, and
dropping his eyeglass. He would like to know accurately —
under a false impression one made such awkward mistakes —
well, for instance, if it were true that they were up to all sorts
of games at home, how was it they were all so deucedly solemn
when they came over here ? Mr. Pratte hoped I wouldn't be
offended — of course, he didn't mean that / was solemn — but —
well, I knew what he meant — I must know ! And wouldn't I
have some more sugar for those strawberries ? * I like crowds
of sugar, don't you ? ' said Mr. Oddie Pratte. Another thing,
he had always been told that they immediately wanted to see
Whitechapel. Now he had asked every American girl he'd met
this season whether she had seen Whitechapel, and not one of
'em had. He wasn't going to ask me on that account. They
didn't, as a rule, seem to see the joke of the thing. Mr. Pratte
would like to know if I had ever met the M'Clures, of New
14

200 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

York — Nellie M'Clure was a great pal of his — and was disap*
pointed that I hadn't. The conversation turned to India, whither
Mr. Pratte's regiment was ordered to proceed immediately, and
I received a good deal of information as to just how amusing life
might be made there from Mr. Pratte. 'They say a mjiu
marries as soon as he learns enough Anglo-Indian to propose in ! *
he remarked, with something like anticipative regret. ' First
dance apt to be fatal — bound to bowl over before the end of the
season. Simla girl is known to be irresistible.' And Lady
Torquilin, catching this last, put in her oar in her own inimi-
table way. ' You're no nephew of mine, Oddie,' said she, ' if
you can't say " No.'" Whereat I was very sorry for Oddie, and
forgave him everything.

There was tea on the lawn afterwards, and bagpipes to the
full lung-power, of three Highlanders at once, walking up and
down, and beating time on the turf with one foot in a manner
that was simply extraordinary considering the nature of what
they were playing ; and conversation with more Aldershot ladies,
followed by an inspection in a body of Mr. Pratte's own paiticu-
lar corner of the barracks, full of implements of war. and
charming photographs, and the performance of Mr. Pratte's in-
tellectual, small dog. That ended the Aldershot parade. We
have so few parades of any sort in America, except when some-
body of importance dies— and then they are apt to be depressing
— that I \^as particularly glad to have seen it.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 201

XIX

POPPA'S interests in London necessitated liis liaving lawyers
there — Messrs. Pink, Pink & Co., of Oheapside. If you
know New York, you will understand me when I say that I had
always thought Cheapside a kind of Bowery, probably full of
second-hand clothing shops and ice-cream parlours — the last
place 1 should think of looking for a respectable firm of solicitors
in, especially after cherishing the idea all my life that London
lawyers were to be found only in Chancery Lane. But that was
Messrs. Pink & Pink's address, and the mistake was one of the
large number you have been kind enough to correct for me.

It was a matter of some regret to poppa that Messrs. Pink
& Pink were bachelors, and could not very well be expected to
exert themselves for me personally on that account ; two Mrs.
Pinks, he thought, might have done a little to make it pleasant
for me in London, and would, probably, have put themselves out
more or less to do it. But there was no Mrs. Pink, so I was
indebted to these gentlemen for money only, which they sent me
whenever I wrote to them for it, by arrangement w^ith poppa.
1 was surprised, therefore, to receive one morning an extremely
polite note from Messrs. Pink & Pink, begging me to name
an afternoon when it would be convenient for me to call at
their oflice, in order that Messrs. Pink & Pink might have the
honour of discussing with me a matter of private business
important to myself. I thought it delightfully exciting,

202 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

and wrote at once that I would come next day. I speculated
considerably in the meantime as to what the important private
matter could possibly be — since, beyond my address, Messrs.
Pink & Pink knew nothing whatever of my circumstances in
London — but did not tell Lady Torquilin, for fear she would
think she ought to come with me, and nothing spoils an important
private matter like a third person.

' 1st Floor, Messrs. Dickson & Dawes, Architects ; 2nd
Floor, Norwegian Life Insurance Co. ; 3rd floor, Messrs. Pink &
Pink, Solicitors,' read the framed directory inside the door
in black letters on a yellow ground. I looked round in vain for
an elevator-boy, though the narrow, dark, little, twisting
stairway was so worn that I might have known that the pro-
prietors were opposed to this innovation. I went from floor to
floor rejoicing. . At last I had found a really antique interior in
London ; there was not a cobweb lacking in testimony. It was
the very first I had come across in my own private investigations,
and I had expected them all to be like this.

Four or five clerks were writing at high desks in the room
behind the frosted-glass door with ' Pink & Pink ' on it. There
was a great deal of the past in this room also, and in its associations
— impossible to realise in America — which I found gratifying.
The clerks were nearly all elderly, for one thing — grey-headed
men. Since then I've met curates of about the same date.
The curates astonished me even more than the clerks. A
curate is such a perennially young person with us. You
would find about as many aged schoolboys as elderly curates in
America. I suppose our climate is more favourable to rapid
development than yours, and they become full-fledged clergymen
or lawyers after a reasonable apprenticeship. If not, they must
come within the operation of some evolutionary law by which they

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

203

disappear. America is a place where there is very little room
for anachronisms.

Beside the elderly clerks, the room had an air of old leather,
and three large windows with yellow blinds finned up — in these
days of automatic rollers. Through the windows I noticed the
cheerful chimneys and spires of London, E.G., rising out of that
lovely atmospheric tone of yellow which is so becoming to them ;
and down below — if I could only have got near enough — 1 am
certain I should have seen a small dismantled graveyard, with
mossy tombstones of different sizes a long way out of the
perpendicular. I have become accustomed to finding graveyards
in close connection with business enterprise in London, and they
appeal to me. It is very nice of you to
let them stay just where they were put
originally, when you are so crowded.
At home there isn't a dead person in
existence, so to speak, that would have
a chance in a locality like Cheapside.
And they must suggest to you all sorts
of useful and valuable things about the
futility of ambition and the deceitful-
ness of riches down there under your
very noses, as it were, whenever you
pause to look at them. I can quite
understand your respect for them, even
in connection with what E.G. frontage
prices must be, and I hope, though
I can't be sure, that there was one
attached to the offices in Gheapside of Messrs. Pink & Pink.

The clerks all looked up with an air of inquiry when I went
in. and I selected the only one who did not immediately duck

WITH AN AIR OF
INQUIRY '

204 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

to his work again for my interrogation. It was an awkward
interrogation to make, and I made it awkwardly. ' Are the
Mr. Pinks in ? ' I asked ; for I did 'not know in the least how
many of them wanted to see me.

* I believe so, miss,' said the elderly clerk, politely, laying
down his pen. ' Would it be Mr. A. Pink, or Mr. W. W.
Pink?'

I said I really didn't know.

* Ah ! In that case it would be Mr. A. Pink. Shouldn't
you say so ? ' — turning to the less mature clerk, who responded
loftily, from a great distance, and without looking, ' Probably.'
Whereupon the elderly one got down from his stool, and took
me himself to the door with ' Mr. A. Pink ' on it, knocked,
spoke to someone inside, then ushered me into the presence of
Mr. A. Pink, and withdrew.

The room, I regret to say, did not match its surroundings,
and could not have been thought of in connection with a grave-
yard. It was quite modern, with a raised leather wall-paper
and revolving chairs. I noticed this before I saw the tall, thin,
depressed-looking gentleman who had risen, and was bowing to
me, at the other end of it. He was as bald as possible, and
might have been fifty, with long, grey side-whiskers, that fell
upon a suit of black, very much wrinkled where Mr. Pink did
not fill it out. His mouth was abruptly turned down at the
corners, with lines of extreme reserve about it, and whatever
complexion he might have had originally was quite gone, leaving
only a modified tone of old-gold behind it. ' Dear me ! ' I
thought, ' there can be nothing interesting or mysterious here.'

Mr. Pink first carefully ascertained whether I was Miss
Wick, of Chicago ; after which he did not shake hands, as I had
vaguely expected him to do, being poppa's solicitor, but said,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 205

* Pray be seated, Miss Wick ! ' — and we both sat down in the
revolving chairs, preserving an unbroken gravity.

' You have been in London some weeks, I believe, Miss
Wick,' said Mr. A. Pink, tentatively. He did not know quite
how long, because for the first month I had plenty of money,
without being obliged to apply for it. 1 smiled, and said

* Yes ! ' with an inflection of self-congratulation. I was very
curious, but saw no necessity for giving more information than
was actually asked for.

' Your — ah — father wrote us that you were coming over
alone. That must have required great courage on the part of —
here Mr. Pink cleared his throat — ' so young a lady ; * and Mr.
Pink smiled a little narrow, dreary smile.

' Oh, no ! ' I said, ' it didn't, Mr. Pink.'

'You are — ah — quite comfortable, I hope, in Cadogan
Mansions. I ilninh it is Cadogan Mansions, is it not ? — Yes.'

' Very comfortable indeed, thank you, Mr. Pink. They are
comparatively modern, and the elevator makes it seem more or
less like home '

Mr. Pink brightened ; he evidently wished me to be discur-
sive. ' Indeed ! ' he said — ' Ye-es ? '

' Yes,' I returned ; ' when I have time I always use the
elevator.'

' That is not, I think, the address of the lady your father
mentioned to us as your only relative in London, Miss Wick ?*

' Oh no,' I responded, cheerfully ; ' Mrs. Cummers Portheris
lives in Half-Moon Street, Mr. Pink.'

' Ah, so I understand. Pardon the inquiry. Miss Wick, but
was there not some expectation on your father's part that you
would pass the time of your visit in London with Mrs.
Portheris ? '

2o6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* On all our parts, Mr. Pink. But it vanished the day after
I arrived' — and I could not help smiling as I remembered the
letter I had written from the Metropole telling the Wick family
about my reception by my affectionate relation.

Mr. Pink smiled too, a little doubtfully as well as drearily
this time. He did not seem to know quite how to proceed.

* Pardon me again, Miss Wick, but there must be occasions,
I should think, when you would feel your — ah — comparative
isolation' — and Mr. Pink let one of his grey whiskers run through
his long, thin hand.

' Very seldom,' I said ; '• there is so much to see in London,
Mr. Pink. Even the store-windows are entertaining to a
stranger ' — and I wondered more than ever what was coming.

'■ I see — I see. You make little expeditions to various points
of interest — ^the Zoological Gardens, the Crystal Palace, and so
forth.'

It began to be like the dialogues in the old-fashioned read-
ing-books, carefully marked ' Q.' and ' A.'

' Yes,' I said, * I do. I haven't seen the Zoo yet, but I've

seen Mrs. Por ' ; there I stopped, knowing that Mr. Pink

could not be expected to perceive the sequence of my ideas.

But he seemed to conclude that he had ascertained as much
as was necessary. ' I think. Miss Wick,' he said, * we must
come to the point at once. You have not been in England
long, and you may or may not be aware" of the extreme diffi-
culty which attaches — er — to obtaining — that is to say, which
Amer — foreigners find in obtaining anything like a correct idea
of — of social institutions here. To a person, I may say, with-
out excellent introductions, it is, generally speaking, impos-
sible.'

I said I had heard of this difficulty.

AN AMERICAN GIRL JN LONDON

207

'it bbgaw to be like the dialogues in the old-fashioned reading books

2o8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' I do not know whether you, personally', have any curiosity
upon this point, but '

I hastened to say that I had a great deal.

' But I should say that it was probable. There are few
persons of your intelligence, Miss Wick, I venture to hazard, by
whom a knowledge of English society, gained upon what might
be termed a footing of intimacy, would fail to be appreciated/

I bowed. It was flattering to be thought intelligent by Mr.
Pink.

* The question now resolves itself, to come, as I have said,
straight to the point, Miss Wick, into whether you would or
would not care to take steps to secure it.'

* That would depend, I should think, upon the nature of the
steps, Mr. Pink. I may as well ask you immediately whether
they have anything to do with Miss Purkiss.'

^ Nothing whatever — nothing whatever ! ' Mr. Pink hastened
to assure me. ' I do not know the lady. The steps which
have recommended themselves to me for you w^ould be taken
upon a — upon a basis of mutual accommodation, Miss Wick,
involving remuneration, of course, upon your side.'

* Oh ! ' said I, comprehend ingly.

'And in connection with a client of our own — an old, and, I
may say, a highly-es^eeme^Z ' — and Mr. Pink made a little
respectful forward inclination of his neck — * client of our own.'

I left the burden of explanation wholly to Mr. Pink, content-
ing myself with looking amiable and encouraging.

' A widow of Lord Bandobust,' said Mr. Pink, with an eye
to the effect of this statement. The effect was bad — I could
not help wondering how many Lord Bandobust had, and said,
' Really ! ' with an effort to conceal it.

' Lady Bandobust, somewhat late in life — this, of course, is

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

209

confidential, Miss Wick — finds herself in a position to — to ap-
preciate any slight addition to her income. His lordship's
rather peculiar will — but I need not go into that. It is, perhaps,

I WAS TAKEN BY SURPRISE

sufficient to say that Lady Bandobust is in a position to give
you every advantage, Miss Wick — every advantage.'

This was fascinating, and I longed to hear more. ' It
9eema a little indefinite,' said I to Mr. Pink.

2IC AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' It does, certainly — you are quite right, Miss Wick — it does.
Beyond approaching you, however, and ascertaining your views,
I am not instructed to act in the matter. Ascertaining your
views in particular, I should say, as regards the sum mentioned
by Lady Bandobust as a — a proper equivalent — ahem ! '

* What is her ladyship's charge ? * I inquired.

* Lady Bandobust would expect three hundred pounds. My
client wishes it to be understood that in naming this figure she
takes into consideration the fact that the season is already well
opened,' Mr. Pink said. ' Of course, additional time must be
allowed to enable you to write to your parents '

' I see,' I said ; ' it does not strike me as exorbitant, Mr.
Pink, considering what Lady Bandobust has to sell.'

Mr. Pink smiled rather uncomfortably. *You Americans
are so humorous,' he said, with an attempt at affability.
' Well ' — drawing both whiskers through his hand conclusively,
and suddenly standing up — ' will you step this way, Miss Wick ?
My client has done me the honour of calling in person about
this matter, and as your visits, oddly enough, coincide, you will
be glad of the opportunity of going into details with her.' And
Mr. A. Pink opened the door leading into the room of Mr. W.
W. Pink. I was taken by surprise, but am afraid I should
have gone in even after time for mature deliberation, I was so
deeply, though insincerely, interested in the details.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

211

ADY BANDOBUST, may

I have the honour of in-
troducing Miss Wick, of
Chicago?' said Mr. Pink,
polemnly, bowing as if he
himself were being introduced
to somebody. ' I could not do
better, I am sure, Miss Wick,
than leave you in Lady Bando-
bust's hands ' — with which
master-stroke of politeness Mr.
Pink withdrew, leaving me,
as he said, in Lady Bando-
bust's hands. She was a little
old woman in black, with
sharp eyes, a rather large,
hooked nose, and a discon-
tented mouth, over which
hovered an expression of being actively bored. She had sloping
shoulders, and little thin fingers in gloves much too long for
them, and her bonnet dated back five seasons. Her whole
appearance, without offering any special point for criticism,
suggested that appreciation of any pecuniary advantage of which
Mr. Pink had spoken, though her manner gave me definitely to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

understand that she did not care one jot about it. She was
looking out of the window when Mr. Pink and I came in, and

'LADY BANDOBUST'

after acknowledging my bow with a small perfunctory smile, a
half-effort to rise, and a vague vertebral motion at the back of

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 213

her neck, slie looked out of the window again. I am convinced
that there was nothing in the view that could possibly interest
her, yet constantly, in the course of our conversation. Lady
Bandobust looked out of the window. She was the most un-
interested person I have had the pleasure of talking to in
England.

I said it was a lovely day.

* Yes,' said Lady Bandobust. ' Mr. Pink tells me you are an
American, Miss Wick, though anybody could see that much.
He knows your father, I believe ? '

' Not personally, I think,' I returned. ^ Poppa has never
visited England, Lady Bandobust.'

' Perhaps we had better say " financially," then — knows him
financially.'

' I daresay that is all that is necessary,' I said, innocently at
the time, though I have since understood Lady Bandobust's
reason for looking at me so sharply.

* You come from Chincliinnatti, I understand from Mr. Pink,*
she continued.

' I beg your pardon ? Oh, Cincinatti ! No, from Chicago,
Lady Bandobust.'

' 1 understood from Mr. Pink that you came from Chinchin-
natti — the place where people make millions in tinned pork. I
had a nephew there for seven years, so I ought to know some-
thing about it,' said Lady Bandobust, with some asperity. ' But
if you say you are from Chickago, I have no doubt you are
right.'

' Mr. Pink informed me,' continued Lady Bandobust, ' that
he thought you might feel able to afford to see a little of English
society. I've noticed that Americans generally like to do that
if they can.'

SHE WAS THE MOST UXIXTKRK8TED PEKSON I HAVj: II.VI) THE PLEASUKJi OP
TALKING TO IN ENGLAND.'

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 215

T said I was sure it would be interesting.

' It is very difficult,' said Lady Bandobust — * extremely
difficult. It is impossible that you should know how difficult
it is.'

I remarked modestly, by way of reply, that I believed few
things worth having were easy to get.

Lady Bandobust ignored the generalisation. * As Mr. Pink
has probably told you, it costs money,' said she, with another
little concessive smile.

' Then, perhaps, it is not so difficult after all,' I replied,
amiably.

Lady Bandobust gave me another sharp look. ' Only you
rich Americans can afford to say that,' she said. ' But Mr. Pink
has told me that the expense would in all likelihood be a matter
of indifference to your people. That, of course, is important.'

* Poppa doesn't scrimp,' I said. * He likes us to have a good
time.'

* Regardless,' said Lady Bandobust — ' regardless of the cost !
That is very liberal.'

* Americans,' she went on, ' in English society are very
fortunate. They are always considered as — as Americans, you
understand '

' I'm afraid I don't,' said I.

' And I think, on the whole, they are rather liked. Yes
generally speaking, I think I may say they are liked.'

I tried to express my gratification.

' As a rule,' said Lady Bandobust, absently, ' they spend so
much money in England.'

' There can be no doubt of the advantages of an experience
of English society,' she continued, rather as if I had suggested
one. * To a young lady especially it is invaluable — it leads to
15

2t6 an AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

so much. I don't know quite to what extent you would ex-
pect ' Here Lady Bandobust paused, as if waiting for data

on which to proceed.

' I would expect ? ' I repeated, not quite understanding.

* But I think I could arrange a certain number of balls, say
four ; one or two dinners — you wouldn't care much about dinners,
though, I dare say ; a few good " at homes " ; a Saturday or so at
Hurlingham — possibly Ascot ; but, of course, you know every-
thing would depend upon yourself.*

* I could hardly expect you to make me enjoy myself. Lady
Bandobust,' I said. ' That altogether depends upon one's
own capacity for pleasure, as you say.'

' Oh, altogether ! ' she returned. * Well, we might say six
balls — thoroughly good ones ' — and Lady Bandobust looked at
me .for a longer time together than she had yet — ' and possibly
the Royal Inclosure at Ascot. I say " possibly " because it is
very difficult to get. And a house-party to finish up with, -which
really ought to be extra, as it doesn't properly belong to a
London season ; but if I can at all see my way to it,' Lady
Bandobust went on, * I'll put it into the three hundred. There
are the Allspices, who have just bought Lord Frereton's place
in Wilts — I could take anyhodj there ! '

' Your friends must be very obliging. Lady Bandobust,'
said I.

* The Private View is over,' said Lady Bandobust ; ' but
there is the Academy Soiree in June, and the Royal Colonial
Institute, tind a few things like that.'

^ It sounds charming,' I remarked.

' We might do something about the Four-in-hand/ I^ady
Bandobust continued, with some impatience.
'Yes?' I said.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 217

Tliere was a pause, in which I cast about me for some way
of escape. I felt that my interest in Lady Bandobust was
exhausted, and that I could not pretend to entertain her scheme
any longer with self-respect. Besides, by this time I cordially
hated her. But I could think of no formula to retreat under,
and resigned myself to sit there helplessly, and defend myself as
best I could, until I was dismissed.

Lady Bandobust produced her last card. * The Duchess of
Dadlington gives 2, fete on the twelfth,' she said, throwing it, as
it were, upon the table. ' I should probably be able to take you
there.'

' The Duchess of Dudlington ? ' said I, in pure stupidity.

^ Yes. And she is rather partial to Americans, for some
extraordinary reason or another.' The conversation flagged
again.

' Presentation — if that is what you are thinking of — would
be extra, Miss Wick,' Lady Bandobust stated, firmly.

' Oh ^ — how much extra, Lady Bandobust ? *

My prospective patroness did not hesitate a minute. * Fifty
pounds,' she said, and looked at me inquiringly.

' I — I don't think I was thinking of it. Lady Bandobust,'
I said. I felt mean, as we say in America.

' You were not! Well,' said she, judicially, ^I don't know
that I would advise the outlay. It is a satisfactory thing to
have done, of course, but not nearly so essential as it used to be
— nothing like. You can get on without it. And, as you say,
fifty pounds is fifty pounds.'

I knew I hadn't said that, but found it impossible to assert
the fact.

' Miss Benin gsbill, whom I took out last season, I did pre-
sent,' Lady Bandobust continued ; * but she went in for every-

2i8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

thing — perhaps more extensively than you would be disposed to
do. It might facilitate matters — give you an idea, perhaps — if
I were to tell you my arrangements with Miss Boningsbill.'

* I should like to hear them,' I said.

* She did not live with me — of course, chaperonage does not
imply residence, you understand that. When she went out with
me she called for me in her brougham. She had a brougham
by the month, and a landau for the park. I should distinctly
advise you to do the same. I would, in fact, make the arrange-
ment for you. I know a very reliable man.' Lady Bandobust
paused for my thanks.

' Generally speaking, Miss Boningsbill and I went out to-
gether; but when I found this particularly inconvenient, she
took one carriage and I the other, though she always had her
choice. I stipulated only to take her to the park twice a
week, but if nothing interfered I went oftener. Occasionally I
took her to the play — that bores me, though. I hope you are
not particularly fond of the theatre. And then she usually found
it less expensive to get a box, as there were generally a few other
people who could be asked with advantage — friends of my own/

' She had a box at Ascot, too, of course,' Lady Bandobust
went on, looking down her nose at a fly in the corner of tha
window-pane ; ' but that is a matter of detail.'

' Of course,' I said, because I could think of nothing else
to say.

'1 gave her a ball,' Lady Bandobust continued; 'that is t<o
say, cards were sent out in my name. That was rather bungled,
though — so many friends of mine begged for invitations for
friends of theirs that I didn't know half the people. And Miss
Boningsbill, of course, knew nobody. Miss Boningsbill was dis-
satisfied about the cost, too. I was foolish enough to forget to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 219

tell her beforehand. Everything came from my own particular
tradespeople, and, naturally, nothing was cheap. I never niggle,'
said Lady Bandobust, turning her two little indifferent black
eyes full upon me.

' Miss Boningsbili insisted on having her name on the cards
as well,' she said : ' " Lady Bandobust and Miss Boningsbili,"
you understand. That I should not advise — very bad form, 1
call it.'

^ She was married in October,' Lady Bandobust continued,
casually. The second son of Sir Banbury Slatte — the eldest
had gone abroad for his health. I knew the Banbury Slattes
extremely well — excellent family.'

' Miss Boningsbili,' Lady Bandobust went on, absently, ' had
nothing like your figure.'

' Was she an American ? ' I asked.

*No — Manchester,' answered Lady Bandobust, laconically.
' Cotton-spinners.'

'My dressmaker tells me she finds a marked difference
between English and American figures,' I remarked ; ' but I am
afraid it is not to our advantage. We are not nearly so fine as
you are.'

' Ah ! ' said Lady Bandobust. * Who is your dressmaker ?
she asked with interest.

' I spoke of the firm whose place of business, though not
mentioned in any guide-book, I had found to repay many visits.
* Oh, those people ! ' said Lady Bandobust. ' Dear, I call
them. Smart enough for evening frocks, but certainly not to
be depended upon for anything else. I should strongly advise
you to try Miss Pafty, in Regent Street, and say I sent you.
And for millinery, do let me recommend Madame Marie. I
would give you a note to her. An excessively clever woman — -

220 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

personal friend of my own. A husband and two sons to support,
so she makes bonnets. I believe the Princess goes to her
regularly. And you pay very little more than you do any-
where else. And now, v;ith regard to our little scheme, what do
you think. Miss Wick ? '

^ Really, Lady Bandobust,' said I, ' I am afraid I must think
about it.' A decided negative was an utter impossibility at the
time.

*Ah!' said Lady Bandobust, 'perhaps you think my terms
!i little high — just a trifle more than you expected, perhaps.
Well, suppose we say two hundred and fifty ? '

' I had no expectations whatever about it. Lady Bandobust,'
I said ; * I knew nothing of it up to about an hour ago.'

' Two hundred,' said Lady Bandobust.

* I am afraid I have no idea of the value of — of such things,
Lady Bandobust,' I faltered.

'I can bring it as low as one hundred and fifty,' she
returned, ' but it would not be quite the same, Miss Wick — you
could not expect that.'

• .•••••

The rest of the conversation, which I find rather painful to
call to memory, may perhaps be imagined from the fact that
Lady Bandobust finally brought her offer down to seventy-five
pounds, at which point I escaped, taking her address, promising
to write her my decision in the course of a day or two, and feel-
ing more uncomfortably contemptible than ever before in my
life. We happened to be making visits in Park Lane next day,
and as Lady Bandobust lived near there, I took the note mysell*,
thinking it would be more polite. And I found the locality, in
spite of its vicinity to Park Lane, quite extraordinary for Lady
Bandobust to have apartments in.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 221

I met Lady Bandobust once again. It was at an * at home '
given by Lord and Lady Mafferton, where everybody was asked
' to meet ' a certain distinguished traveller. Oddly enough, I
was introduced to her, and we had quite a long chat. But I
noticed that she had not caught my name as my hostess pro-
nounced it — she called me ' Miss Winter ' during the whole of
our conversation, and seemed to have forgotten that we had
ever seen each other before ; which was disagreeable of her, in
my opinion.

222 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXI

I WENT to Ascot with the Bangley Coffins— Mr., Mrs., and the
two Misses Bangley Coffin. I didn't know the Bangley
Coffins very well, but they were kind enough to ask Lady Tor-
quilin if I might go with them, and Lady Torquilin con-
sented with alacrity. ^ You couldnH go away from England
without seeing Ascot,' said she. * It would be a sin ! It's far
too much riot for me ; besides, I can't bear to see the wretched
horses. If they would only learn to race without beating the
poor beasties ! To say nothing of the expense, which I call
enormous. So by all means go with the Bangley Coffins, child
— they're lively people — I daresay you'll enjoy yoarself.'

Lady Torquilin was surprised and disappointed, however,
when she learned that the party would go by train. * I wonder
at them,' she said, referring to the Bangley Coffins ; * they know
such a lot of people. I would have said they were morally cer-
tain to be on somebody's drag. Shall you care to go by train ? '
Whereupon I promptly assured Lady Torquilin that I was only
too happy to go any way.

So we started, the morning of the Gold Cup day, I and the
Bangley Coffins. I may as well describe the Bangley Coffins, in
the hope that they may help to explain my experiences at Ascot.
I have to think of Mrs. Bangley Coffin very often myself, when
I try to look back intelligently upon our proceedings.

Mrs. Bangley Coffin was tall, with a beautiful figure and pale

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 223

gold hair. The Misses Bangley Coffin were also tall, with
prospectively beautiful figures and pale gold hair. I never saw
such a resemblance between mother and daughters as there was
between the Misses Bangley Coffin and their mamma. They sat
up in the same way, their shoulders had the same slope, their
elbows the same angle. The same lines developed on the
countenance of Mrs. Bangley Coffin were undeveloped on the
countenances of the Misses Bangley Coffin. Except in some
slight matter of nose or eyes, Mr. Bangley Coffin hardly suggested
himself in either of the young ladies. W^®^ ^^1 spoke, it was
in their mother's voice and in their mother's manner — a manner
that impressed you for the moment as being the only one in the
world. Both they and their mamma had on dresses which it
was perfectly evident they had never worn before, and of which
they demanded my opinion with a frankness that surprised me.

* What do you think,' said they, ' of our Ascot frocks ? ' I
admired them very much; they represented, amongst them,
nearly all the fashionable novelties, and yet they had a sort of
conventional originality, if I may say such a thing, which was
extremely striking. They seemed satisfied with my applause, but
promptly fell upon me for not meriting applause myself. ' We
saw you,' they said unitedly, ^ in that frock last Sunday in the
park ! ' — and there was a distinct reproach in the way they said
it. ' It's quite charming ! ' they assured me — and it was — ' but
it's not as if you hadn't quantities of them ! Do you mean to say
Lady Torquilin didn't tell you you ought to have a special frock
for Ascot ?* * She said I should do very well in this,' I declared,

* and that it would be a sin to buy another ; I had much better
give the money to Dr. Barnardo ! ' Whereat Mrs. Bangley
Coffin and the two Misses Bangley Coffin looked at one another
and remarked, ^ How like Lady Torquilin ! '

224

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' I didn't give it to Dr. Barnardo,' I continued — to which
Mrs. Bangley Coffin rejoined, in parenthesis, ' I should hope
not ' — ' but I'm glad Lady Torquilin did not advise me to get
an Ascot frock, though yours are very pretty. I feel that I
couldn't have sustained one — I haven't the personality ! ' And
indeed this was quite true. It occurred to me often again
through the day ; I could not have gone about inside an Ascot
frock without feeling to some extent the helpless and meaning-
less victim of it. The Bangley Coffin girls thought this supreme
nonsense, and declared that I could carry anything off, and Mrs.

Bangley Coffin said,

with pretended se-
verity, that it was
not a question of
feeling but of look-
ing ; but they united
in consoling me so
successfully that I
at last believed my-
self dressed to per-
fection for Ascot —
if I had only worn
something else to
the park the Sun-
day before !

The husband
and father of the
Bangley Coffins was

MR. BANGLEY COFFIN .

a short, square-
shouldered gentleman with bushy eyebrows, a large mous-
tache, plaid trousers, and a grey tail-coat that was a very

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 225

tight fit round the waist. He had an expression of deep
sagacity, and he took from an inner pocket, and fondled now
and then, a case containing six very large brown cigars. His
look of peculiar anticipative intelligence, combined with the
cigars, gave me the idea that we should not be overburdened
with Mr. Bangley Coffin's society during the day — which proved
to be a correct one.

It did not seem to me, in spite of what Lady Torquilin had
said, that it was at all unpopular to go to Ascot by rail. Trains
were leaving the station every four or five minutes, all full of
people who preferred that way of going; and our own car,
which w^as what, I believe, you call a * saloon carriage,' had
hardly an empty seat. They looked nice respectable people,
too, nearly all in Ascot frocks, though not perhaps particularly
interesting. What surprised me in connection with the ride
was the length of it ; it was not a ride, as I had somehow
expected, of twenty minutes or half an hour from London, but
a journey of, I forget how many, interminable hours. And what
surprised me in connection with the people was their endurance
of it. They did not fuss, or grow impatient, or consult their
watches as the time dragged by ; they sat up, calm and placid
and patient, and only looked occasionally, for refreshment, at
their Ascot frocks. They seemed content to take an enormous
amount of trouble for the amusement which might be supposed
to be tickling their fancy at the other end of the trip — if there
was any other end — to take it unshrinkingly and seriously.
It gave me an idea of how difficult it is to be amused in England
— unless you are a foreigner. Ascot to them was no light
matter, and to me it was such a very light matter. I tried to
imagine any fifty Americans of my acquaintance dressing up in
their best clothes, and sperding six or seveu hours of a day

226 AM AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

in protracted railway journeys, for the sake of a little fun in
between ; and I failed. It's as much as we would do to inaugu-
rate a president, or bury a general who saved the Union.
We would consider the terras high. But, of course, it is impos-
sible for me to say how we might behave if we had Distinguished
Occasions, with Royal Inclosures inside them.

We started with a sense of disappointment, which seemed
to come in through the windows and envelop the Bangley
Coffins, because ' some people ' they had expected failed to
appear upon the platform. Mr. Bangley Coffin looked par-
ticularly depressed. ' Don't see how the deuce we're going to
arrange ! ' he said to Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with unction. ' Oh,
there's sure to be somebody, Joey, love ! ' she returned, cheer-
fully ; ' and in any case, you see, we have you.' To which Mr.
Bangley Coffin gave a dubious and indistinct assent. I did
not get on well with Mr. Bangley Coffin. He seemed to mean
well, but he had a great many phrases which I did not in the
least understand, and to which he invariably added, ' As you
say in America.' It was never by any chance a thing we did
say in America, but nothing could make Mr. Bangley Coffin
believe that. I can't say that we had much general conversa-
tion either, but in what there was I noticed great good-feeling
between the Misses Bangley Coffins and their mamma.

* The bonnet of that Israelite at the other end of the
carriage wo7jld suit you to a " T ", mummie,' one of them re-
marked in joke. The bonnet was a terrible affair, in four shades
of heliotrope.

'Yes,' replied Mrs. Bangley Coffin, smiling quite good-
naturedly ; ' that's about my form.'

The Bangley Coffins were all form. Form, for them, regu-
lated existence. It was the all-compelling law of the spheres,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 227

the test of all human action and desire. ' Good form ' was the
ultimate expression of their respect, ' bad form ' their final decla-
ration of contempt. Perhaps I should misjudge the Bangley
Coffins if I said form was their conscience, and I don't want to mis-
judge them — they were very pleasant to me. But 1 don't think
they would have cared to risk their eternal salvation upon any
religious tenets that were not entirely comme ilfaut — I mean
the ladies Bangley Coffin. The head of their house twisted his
moustache and seemed more or less indifferent.

There is no doubt that, in the end, we did get to Ascot, and
left our dust-cloaks in charge of that obliging middle-aged person
who is to be found in every ladies' waiting-room in England.
There was some discussion as to whether we should or should
not leave our dust-cloaks with her — they were obviously unbe-
coming, but, obviously also, it might rain. However, in the
end we did. Mrs. Bangley Coffin thought we might trust to
Providence, and Providence proved itself worthy of Mrs. Bangley
Coffin's confidence.

Again, as we joined the crowd that surged out of the station,
I noticed that look of anxious expectancy on the face of the
Bangley Coffin family. It was keener than before, and all-
embracing. I even fancied I noticed an understood division of
survey — an arrangement by which Mr. Bangley Coffin looked
to the north, and Mrs. Bangley Coffin to the south, one young
lady to the east, and the other to the west. ' We really must
keep an eye open,' said Mr. Bangley Coffin. ' Coming this way ?
Oh ! Hullo, Pipply, old man ! H'are you ? ' with extreme cor-
diality, to a short, very stout gentleman in grey, with a pink face
and a hooked nose, and a white moustache, and a blue-spotted
necktie — a New Yorker, I was sure, before he spoke. Pipply
responded with very moderate transports, and shook hands

228 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

hastily with the ladies attached to Mr. Bangley Coffin. 'Mrs.
Pipply's with you, I see/ continued Mr. Bangley Coffin, joyously,
' and that charming sister of hers ! Kitty, we must see whether
they have forgotten us, mustn't we ? ' — and he and Kitty advanced
upon two very much-accented fair ladies in frilled muslins and
large flowery hats. They were dressed as fashionably as Bond
Street could dress them, and they were as plump and pretty as
could be, but perhaps just a little too big and blue of eye and
pink-and-white of complexion quite to satisfy the Bangley Coffin
idea of ' form.' It would be difficult to account otherwise for
what they did. For the Pipplys, they were very amiable, but,
as you might say, at bay ; and after reproaching the Bangley
Coffins with having never, never, never come to see them, after
promising solemnly to do so at Cannes, where they had all had
such a good time together, Mrs. Pipply proceeded to say that
she didn't know whether we were driving — if not, they had room
for one^ and we might arrange to meet again somewhere. ' How
good of you ! * said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, and looked at her two
daughters. ' We're really obliged to you,' said Mr. Bangley
Coffin, and bent a gaze of strong compulsion upon his wife.
The young ladies smiled, hesitated, and looked at me. I couldn't
go. I had not even been introduced. There was an awkward
pause — the kind of pause you never get out of England — and
as the Pipplys, rather huffed and rather in a hurry, were moving
off, Mrs. Bangley Coffin covered their retreat, as it were, with
the unblushing statement that she was afraid we must try to
keep our little party together. And we lost the Pipplys ; where-
upon Mr. Bangley Coffin regarded his family with the air of a
disciplinarian. ' They're certain to be on a drag,' said he, ' and
no end of Pipply's clubs have tents. Why didn't one of you go ?
Not classy enough, eh ? ' Whereupon they all with one accord

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 229

began to make excuse, after which we walked on in a troubled
silence. It was very dusty and very steep, that narrow hill that
so many people find fortune at the top or ruin at the bottom of,
leading to the heart of Ascot. But the day had brightened, and
the people — all going uphill — were disposed to be merry, and
two one-armed sailors sat in the sun by the side of the road
singing ballads and shouting, ' Good luck to you, ladies ! ' so
that my spirits gradually rose. I didn't see how I could help
enjoying myself.

' I always think it's such a frightful charge for admission to
the Grand Stand,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, as we walked up
the arboreal approach to it. ^ A sovereign ! Of course, they
have to do it, you know, to keep the mob out ; but really, when
one thinks of it, it is too much ! '

I thought this a real kindness of Mrs. Bangley Coffin, because
if I had not known it was so much 1 might have let Mr. Bangley
Coffin pay for my ticket too.

It was about this time that Mr. Bangley Coffin disappeared.
He launched us, as it were, upon the crowded terrace in front of
the Grand Stand, where at every turn the Misses Bangley Coffin
expected to see a man they knew. He remained semi-detached
and clinging for about a quarter of an hour, coming up with an
agreeable criticism upon a particular costume, darting ofi" again
to talk to a large, calm man with an expansive checked shirt-front
and a silk hat well on the back of his head, who carried a note-
book. Then, once, Mrs. Bangley Coffin addressed him, think-
ing him behind her. ' Joey, love ! ' said she. ' Joeij^ love ! ' said
she again, turning her head. But Joey was utterly and wholly
gone. I believe he explained afterwards that he had lost us.

' There ! ' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, with incisiveness ; ' now
we must see somebody we know ! Pet, isn't that Sir Melville

230 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Cartus ?' It was, and Sir Melville came up in response to Mis.
Bangley Coffin's eyeglass and bow and smile, and made himself
extremely agreeable for about four minutes and a-quarter. Then
he also took off his hat with much charm of manner and went
away. So did a nervous little Mr. Trifugis, who joined us for a
short time. He said he was on the Fitzwalters's drag, and it was
so uncommon full he had apprehensions about getting back.
Whose drag were we on ? and didn't we think it was drawing
near the halcyon hour of luncheon ?

' Nobody's,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, pointedly. ' We catne
by train this year. Joey is suffering from a fit of economy — the
result of Surefoot's behaviour at the Derby. It is about time
for luncheon.'

Whereat Mr. Trifugis dropped his eyeglass and looked
absently over his left shoulder, blushing hard. Then he screwed
the eyeglass in again very tight, Jooked at us all with amiable
indefiniteness, took off /us hat, and departed. ' Little beast ! '
said Mrs. Bangley Coffin, candidly; 'there's not the slightest
reason why he couldn't have given us all luncheon at the Lyric
enclosure.'

Then I began to see why it was so necessary that we should
meet somebody we knew — it meant sustenance. It was, as Mr.
Trifugis had said, quite time for sustenance, and neither the
Bangley Coffin family nor I had had any since breakfast, and if
it had not been for that consideration, which was naturally a
serious one, I, for my part, would have been delighted just to
go round, as we seemed likely to do, by ourselves. There was
no band, as there never is in England — I suppose because Edward
the Confessor or somebody didn't like bands ; but there was
everything else that goes to give an occasion brilliance and
variety — a mingling crowd of people with conventionally

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 231

picturesque clothes and interesting manners, sunlight, flags, a
race-course, open boxes, an obvious thrill of excitement, a great
many novel noises. Besides, it was Ascot, and its interest was
intrinsic.

* I think we must try the drags,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin —
and we defiled out into the crowd beyond the gates, whose dress
is not original, that surges unremuneratively between the people
who pay on the coaches and the people who pay on the Lawn.
It was more amusing outside, though less exclusive — livelier,
noisier. Men were hanging thick against the palings of the
Lawn, with expressions of deep sagacity and coloured shirts,
calling uninterruptedly, ' Two to one bar one ! ' * Two to one
Orveito ! ' and very well dressed young gentlemen occasionally
came up and entered into respectful conference with them. We
were jostled a good deal in the elbowing multitude, and it seemed
to me to be always, as if in irony, by a man who sold ginger-
bread or boiled lobsters. We made our way through it, how-
ever, and walked slowly in the very shadow of the drags, on top
of which people with no better appetites than we had were
ostentatiously feasting. We were all to look out for the Pibbly
hats, and we did — in vain. * I can't imagine,' said Mrs. Bangley
Coffin to each of her daughters in turn, ' why you didn't go
with them ! ' We saw Mr. Trifugis, and noted bitterly that he
had not been at all too late. An actress on the Lyric drag gave
us a very frank and full-flavoured criticism of our dresses, but it
was unsatisfying, except to the sensibilities.

^ Shall we try behind, mamma ? ' asked one of the young
ladies. ' Who could possibly see us behind ? ' exclaimed Mrs.
Bangley Coffin, who was getting cross. Nevertheless, we did try
behind, and somebody did see us — several very intelligent footmen.

* Is there no place,' I inquired for the fourth or fifth time,

232

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

' where we could Imij a little light refreshment ? ' !Mrs. Bangley
Coffin didn't say there was not, but seemed to think it so im-

' ALV/AYS, AS IF IN IRONY, BY A ATAN WHO SOLD GINGERBKEAD

probable that it was hardly worth our while to look. ' Nobody
lunches at Ascot, Miss Wick,' she said at last, with a little

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 233

asperity, '• except on the drags or at the club enclosures. It's —
it's impossible.'

* AN ACTRESS ON THE UYKIC 1>RAG GAVE US A VERT FRANK AND FULL-FLAVOURED
CRITICISM OF OUR DRESSES '

'Well,' I said, ' I think it's very unenterprising not to make
provision for such a large number of people. If this were in

234 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

America ' But just then we came face to face with Colonel and

Mrs. B. J. Silverthorn, of St. Paul's, Minnesota. To say that
I was glad to see these old friends in this particular emergency
is to say very little. I knew the Colonel's theory of living, and
I was quite sure that starving for six hours on an English race-
course had no place in it. I knew his generous heart, too, and
was confident that any daughter of poppa's might rely upon it
to the utmost. So, after introducing Mrs. and the Misses
Bangley Coffin, I proceeded to explain our unfortunate situation.
' Can you tell us,' I begged, ^ where we can get something to
eat?'

The Colonel did not hesitate a moment. * Come right along
with me,' he said. ^ It isn't just the Fifth Avenue Hotel, but
it'll do if you're hungry, and I guess you are ! ' And we all
followed him to the rather abridged seclusion of the restaurant
behind the Grand Stand. The Colonel did it all very hand-
somely — ordered champagne, and more dishes than twice as many
people could have disposed of ; but the cloud that rested upon
the brows of Mrs. and the Misses Bangley Coffin did not disperse
with the comforting influence of food, and they kept a nervous
eye upon the comers and goers. I suppose they had waited too
long for their meal really to enjoy it.

We parted from Colonel and Mrs. Silverthorn almost im-
mediately afterwards — they said they wanted to go and have
another good look at the Royalties and Dukes in their own yard,
and Mrs. Bangley Coffin thought it was really our duty to stay
where Mr. Bangley Coffin might find us. So we went and sat
in a row and saw the Gold Cup won, and shortly after took an
early train for London, Mrs. Bangley Coffin declaring that she
had no he^irt for another sovereign for the Paddock. On the
way home she said she was sorry I had had such a dull day, and

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 235

tliat it was lier first and last attempt to ' screw ' Ascot. But I
had not had at all a dull day — it had been immensely interest-
ing, to say nothing of the pleasure of meeting Colonel and Mrs.
Silverthorn. I quite agreed with Mrs. Bangley CofiSn, however,
that it is better to make liberal arrangements for Ascot when
you go as an Ascot person.

236 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXII

* T DON'T know what we were about to let Miss Wick miss
-1 the Boats,' said Mr. MafFerton one day, over his after-
noon-tea in Lady Torquilin's flat. I looked at Lady Torquilin,
and said I thought Mr. Mafferton must be mistaken ; I had
never missed a boat in my life, and, besides, we hadn't been
going anywhere by boat lately. The reason we had put off
our trip to Richmond five times was invariably because of
the weather. Peter Corke happened to be there that afternoon,
too, though she didn't make much of a visit. Miss Corke
never did stay very long when Mr. Mafferton was there — he
was a person she couldn't bear. She never called him anything
but ' That.' She declared you could see hundreds of him
any afternoon in Piccadilly, all with the same hat and collar
and expression and carnation in their button-holes. She failed
to see why I should waste any portion of my valuable time in
observing Mr. Mafferton, when I had still to see ' Dolly's Chop
House,' and Guy the King-maker's tablet in Warwick Lane,
and the Boy in Panyer Alley, and was so far unimproved by
anything whatever relating to Oliver Goldsmith or Samuel
Johnson. She could not understand that a profoundly unin-
teresting person might interest you precisely on that account.
But, ' Oh you aborigine ! ' she began about the Boats, and I
presently understood another of those English descriptive terms
by which you mean something that you do not say.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 237

The discussion ended, very happily for me, in an arrangement
suggested jointly by Miss Corke and Mr. Mafferton. Lady
Torquilin and I should go to Oxford to see ' the Eights.' Mr.
Mafferton had a nephew at Pembroke, and no doubt the young
cub would be delighted to look after us. Miss Corke's younger
brother was at Exeter, and she would write to the dear boy at
once that he must be nice to us. Peter was very sorry she
couldn't come herself — nothing would have given her greater
pleasure, she said, than to show me all I didn't know in the
Bodleian.

I suppose we have rather a large, exaggerated idea of
Oxford in America, thinking about it, as it were, externally.
As a name it is so constantly before us, and the terms of
respect in which the English despatches speak of it are so
marked, that its importance in our eyes has become extremely
great. We think it a city, of course — no place could grow to
such fame without being a city — and with us the importance of
a city naturally invests itself in large blocks of fine buildings
chiefly devoted to business, in a widely-extended and highly-
perfected telephone system, and in avenues of Queen Anne
i*esidences with the latest modern conveniences. And Lady
Torquilin, on the way, certainly talked a great deal about ' the
High ' — which she explained to be Oxford's principal thorough-
fare — and the purchases she had at one time or another made on
it, comparing Oxford with London prices. So that I had quite
an extensive State Street or Wabash Avenue idea of ' the High.'
Both our young gentlemen friends were fractional parts of the
Eights, and were therefore unable to meet us. It had been
arranged that we should lunch with one at two, and take tea
with the other at five, but Lady Torquilin declared herself in
urgent need of something sustaining as soon as we arrived, and

238 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* Shall we go to the Clarendon to get it ? ' said she, * or to
Boffin's?'

* What is Boffin's ? ' I inquired. It is not safe, in English
localisms, to assume that you know anything.

' Boffin's is a pastry-cook's.' Lady Torquilin informed me, and
I immediately elected for Boffin's. It was something idyllic, in
these commonplace days, when Dickens has been so long dead,
that Boffin should be a pastry-cook, and that a pastry-cook
should be Boffin. Perhaps it struck me especially, because in
America he would have been a 'confectioner,' with some
aesthetic change in the spelling of the original Boffin that I am
convinced could not be half so good for business. And we
walked up a long, narrow, quiet street, bent like an elbow, lined
with low-roofed little shops devoted chiefly, as I remember them,
to the sale of tennis-racquets, old prints, sausages, and gentle-
men's neckties, full of quaint gables, and here and there lapsing
into a row of elderly stone houses that had all gone to sleep
together by the pavement, leaving their worldly business to the
care of the brass-plates on their doors. Such a curious old street
we went up to Boffin's, so peaceful, nothing in it but inoffensive
boys pushing handcarts, and amiable gentlemen advanced in
years with spectacles — certainly more of these than I ever saw
together in any other place — never drowsing far from the shadow
of some serious grey pile, ivy-bearded and intent, like a vener-
able scholar — oh, a very curious old street !

' Shall we get,' said I to Lady Torquilin, ' any glimpse of the
High before we reach Boffin's ? ' Dear Lady Torquilin looked
at me sternly, as if to discover some latent insincerity. ' None
of your impertinence, miss,' said she ; ' iMs is the High ! '

I was more charmed and delighted than I can express, and
as Lady Torquilin fortunately remembered several things we

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 239

urgently needed, and could buy to much better advantage in
Oxford than in ' Town,' I had the great pleasure of finding out
what it was like to shop in the High, and the other queer little
streets which are permitted to run — no, to creep — about the feet
of the great wise old colleges that take such kindly notice of
them. It was very nice, to my mind, that huddling together of
pastry-cooks and gargoyles, of chapels and old china shops, of
battered mediaeval saints and those little modern errand-boys
with their handcarts — of old times and new, preponderatingly
old and respectfully new. Much more democratic, too, than a
seat of learning would be in America, where almost every
college of reputation is isolated in the sea of ' grounds,' and the
only sound that falls upon the academic ear is the clatter of the
lawn-mower or the hissing of the garden-hose. Nor shall T soon
forget the emotions with which I made a perfectly inoffensive
purchase in a small establishment of wide reputation for petty
wares, called, apparently from time immemorial, ^ The Civet
Cat ' — not reproachfully, nor in a spirit of derision, but bearing
the name with dignity in painted letters.

People who know their way about Oxford will understand
how we found ours to Pembroke from the High. I find that I
have forgotten. We stood at so many corners to look, and
Lady Torquilin bade me hurry on so often, that the streets and
the colleges, and the towers and the gardens, are all lost to me in
a crowded memory that diverges with the vagueness of enchant-
ment from Carfax and Boffin's. But at last we walked out of
the relative bustle of the highways and byways into the quietest
place I ever saw or felt, except a graveyard in the Strand— a
green square hedged in with buildings of great dignity and
solidity, and very serious mind. I felt, as we walked around it
to ask a respectable-looking man waiting about on the other

240

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

side where Mr. Sanders Horton's rooms were, as if I were in
church.

' Yes m ! This way'm, if ^/ow please,' baid the respectable-

FELT AS IF I WERE IN CHURCH

looking man. 'Mr. 'Orton's rooms is on the first floor h'up,
'm' ; and as Mr. Horton himself had come out on the landing to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 241

receive us, and was presently very prettily shaking hands with
us, we had no further difficulty. Our host had not considered
himself equal to lunching two strange ladies unassisted, however,
and as he looked a barely possible nineteen, this was not
remarkable, Lady Torquilin thought afterwards. He immedi-
ately introduced his friend. Lord Symonds, who seemed, if any-
thing, less mature, but whose manners were quite as nice.
Then we all sat down in Mr. Sanders Horton's pretty little
room, and watched the final evolution of luncheon on the table,
and talked about the view. ' You have a lovely lawn,' said I
to Mr, Horton, who responded that it wasn't a bad quad ; and
when I asked if the respectable-looking man downstairs was the
caretaker of the college : ' Oh, nothing so swagger ! ' said Lord
Symonds ; ' probably a scout ! ' And the presence of a quad
and a scout did more than all the guide-books I read up
afterwards to give me a realising sense of being in an English
university centre. We looked at Mr. Ilorton's pictures, too, and
examined, complimentarily, all his decorative effects of wood-
carving and old china, doing our duty, as is required of ladies
visiting the menage of a young gentleman, with enthusiasm. I
was a little disappointed, personally, in not finding the initials
of Byron or somebody cut on Mr. Horton's window-sill, and dis-
tinctly shocked to hear that this part of Pembroke College had
been built within the memory of living man, as Mr. Horton was
reluctantly obliged to admit. He apologised for its extreme
modemness on the ground of its comparative comfort, but
seemed to feel it, in a subdued way, severely, as was eminently
proper. Among the various photographs of boat-races upon
the wall was one in which Mr. Horton pointed out ' the
Torpids,' which I could not help considering and remarking
upon as a curious name for a boating-crew. * Why are they

242 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

called that ? ' I asked ; * they seem to be going pretty
fast.'

* Oh, rather ! ' responded Mr. Horton. ' Upon my word, I
don't know. It does seem hard lines, doesn't it ? Symonds,
where did these fellows get their name ? ' But Lord Symonds
didn't know exactly either — they'd always had it, he fancied ;
and Lady Torquilin explained that * this yonng lady ' — meaning
me — could never be satisfied with hearing that a thing was so
because it was so — she must always know the why and where-
fore of everything, even when there was neither why nor where-
fore ; at which we all laughed and sat down to luncheon. But
I privately made up my mind to ask an explanation of the Tor-
pids from the first Oxford graduate with honours that I met, and
I did. He didn't know either. He was not a boating-man,
however ; he had taken his honours in Classics.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

243

XXIII

Had heard so much from
Ecglish sources of the
precocity and forwardness
of very young people in
America, that I was quite
prepared to find a com-
mendably opposite state of
things in England, and I
must say that, generally
speaking, I was not dis-
appointed. The extent to
which young ladies and
gentlemen under twenty -
two can sit up straight
and refrain from conversa-
tion here, impressed me as
much as anything I have
seen in society. I have not observed any of this shyness in
married ladies or older gent'emen ; and that struck me oddly,
too, for in America it is only with advancing years that we
become conscious of our manners.

I have no doubt that, if the Eights had been in America —
where they would probably be called the Octoplets — and Mr.
Sanders Horton had been a Harvard Sophomore, and Lord

244 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Symonds's father had made his fortune out of a patent shoe-
lace-tag, and we had all been enjoying ourselves over there, we
might have noticed a difference both in the appearance and the
behaviour of these young gentlemen. They would certainly
have been older for their years, and more elaborately dressed.
Their complexions would probably not have been so fresh, nor
j:heir shoulders so broad, and the pencilling on Mr. Hortou's
upper lip, and the delicate, fair marking on Lord Symonds's,
would assuredly have deepened into a moustache. Their manners
would not have been so negatively good as they were in Oxford,
where they struck me as expressing an ideal, above all things, to
avoid doing those things which they ought not to do. Their
politeness would have been more effusive, and not the least bit
nervous ; though I hope neither Mr. Horton nor Lord Symonds
will mind my implying that in Oxford they were nervous.
People can't possibly help the way they have been brought up,
and to me our host's nervousness was interesting, like his
English accent, and the scout and the quad. Personally, I
liked the feeling of superinducing bashfulness in two nice boys
like those — it was novel and amusing— though I have no doubt
they were much more afraid of Lady Torquilin than of me.
I never saw a boy, however, from twelve to twenty-three — which
strikes me as the span of boyhood in England — that was not
Lady Torquilin's attached slave after twenty minutes' conver-
sation with her. She did not humour them, or flatter them, or
talk to them upon their particular subjects; she was simply
what they called 'jolly' to them, and their appreciation was
always prompt and lively. Lady Torquilin got on splendidly
with both Mr. Sanders Horton and Lord Symonds. The only
reason why Mr. Horton's lunch was not an unqualifiedly brilliant
success was that, whenever she talked to one of our hosts, the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 245

other one was left for me to talk to, which was usually dis-
tressing for both of us.

It was an extremely nice lunch, served with anxious defer-
ence by the respectable-looking little man who had come upstairs,
and nervously commanded by Mr. Horton at one end with the
cold joint, and Lord Symonds at the other with the fowl. It
began, I remember, with bouillon. Lady Torquilin partook of
bouillon, so did I ; but the respectable scout did not even offer
it to the young gentlemen. I caught a rapid, inquiring glance
from Lady Torquilin. Could it be that there was not bouillon
enough? The thought checked any utterance upon the subject,
and we finished our soup with careful indifference, while Lord
Symonds covered the awkwardness of the situation by explain-
ing to me demonstratively the nature of a Bump. I did not
understand Bumps then, nor did I succeed during the course of
the afternoon in picking up enough information to write intelli-
gently about them. But this was because Lord Symonds had
no bouillon. Under the circumstances, it was impossible for me
to put my miud to it.

Presently Mr. Horton asked us if he might give us some
salmon — not collectively, but individually and properly. Lady
Torquillin first; and we said he might. He did not help Lord
Symonds, and relapsed himself, as it were, into an empty plate.
It was Lady Torquilin's business to inquire if the young gentle-
men were not well, or if salmon did not agree with them,
and not mine; but while I privately agitated this matter, I
unobservantly helped myself to mayonnaise. ' I — I beg your
pardon,' said Mr. Sanders Horton, in a pink agony ; ' that's
cream ! ' So it was, waiting in a beautiful old-fashioned silver
pitcher the advent of those idylls that come after. It was a
critical moment, for it instantly flashed upon me that the

246

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

respectable scout had forgotteo the mayonnaise, and that I had

been the means of making Mr. Sanders Horton very uncom-
fortable indeed. Only one thing
occurred to me to say, for which
I hope I may be forgiven.
'Yes,' I returned, 'we like it
with fish in America.' At
which Mr. Horton looked in-
terested and relieved. And I
ate as much of the mixture as I
could with a smile, though the
salmon had undergone a vinegar
treatment which made this diffi-
cult. ' It is in Boston, is it
not,' remarked Lord Symonds
politely, 'that the people live
almost entirely upon beans ? '
And the conversation flowed
quite generally until the advent
of the fowl. It was a large,
well- conditioned chicken, and
when the young gentlemen,
ap[)arently by mutual consent,
refrained from partaking of it,
the situation had reached a
degree of unreasonableness
which was more than Lady
Torquilin could endure.

' Do you intend to eat no-

thing ? ' she inquired, with the air of one who will accept no

prevarications.

' THE RESPECTABLE SCOUT.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 247

* Oh, we'd like to, but we can't,' they replied, earnestly and
simultaneously.

' We're still in training, you know,' Lord Symonds went on.
' Fellows have got to train pretty much on stodge.' And at
this juncture Mr. Horton solemnly cut two slices of the cold
beef, and sent them to his friend, helping himself to the same
quantity with mathematical exactness. Then, with plain bread,
and gravity which might almost be called severe, they attacked it.

Lady Torquilin and I looked at each other reproachfully.
This privation struck us as needless and extreme, and it had the
uncomfortable moral effect of turning our own repast into a
Bacchanalian revel. We frowned, we protested, we besought.
We suggested with insidious temptation that this was the last
day of the races, and that nobody would know. We commended
each particular dish in turn, in terms we thought most appetis-
ing. It was very wrong, and it had the sting which drives
wrong-doing most forcibly home to the conscience, of being
entirely futile, besides engendering the severe glances of the
respectable scout. The young gentlemen were as adamant, if
adamant could blush. They would not be moved, and at every
fresh appeal they concentrated their attention upon their cold
beef in a manner which I thought most noble, if a trifle ferocious.
At last they began to look a little stern and disapproving, and
we stopped, conscious of having trenched disrespectfully upon
an ideal of conduct. But over the final delicacy of Mr. Horton 's
lunch, the first of the season. Lady Torquilin regarded them
wistfully. ' Not even gooseberry tart ? ' said she. And I will
not say that there was no regret in the courageous rejoinder :
' Not even gooseberry tart.'

I am not pretending to write about the things that ought to
have impressed me most, but the things that did impress me
17

248 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

most, and these were, at Mr. Sanders Horton's luncheon, the
splendid old silver college goblets into which our host poured us
lavish bumpers of claret-cup, the moral support of the respect-
able scout, and the character and dignity an ideal of duty may
possess, even in connection with cold beef. I came into severe
contact with an idiom, too, which I shall always associate with
that occasion. Lord Symonds did not belong to Pembroke
College, and I asked him, after we had exchanged quite a good
deal of polite conversation, which one he did belong to.

* How lovely these old colleges are,' I remarked, ' and so
nice and impressive and time-stained. Which one do you
attend. Lord Symonds ? '

* Maudlin,' said Lord Symonds, apparently taking no notice
of my question, and objecting to the preceding sentiment.

*Do you think so?' I said. I was not offended. I had
made up my mind some time before never to be offended in
England until I understood things. ' I'm very sorry, but they
do strike an American that way, you know.'

Lord Symonds did not seem to grasp my meaning. ' It is
jolly old,' said he. 'Not so old as some^'of 'em. New, for
instance. But I thought you asked my college. Maudlin, just
this side of Maudlin bridge, you know.'

' Oh ! ' I said. * And will you be kind enough to spell your
college. Lord Symonds ? I am but a simple American, over
here partly for the purpose of improving my mind.'

'Certainly. " M-a-g-d-a-1-e-n,'" returned Lord Symonds,
very good-naturedly. ' Now that you speak of it, it is rather a
rum way of spelling it. Something like " Cholmondeley." Now,
how would you spell " Cholmondeley ? " '

I was glad to have his attention diverted from my mistake,
but the reputation of 'Cholmondeley' is world-wide, and J

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 249

spelled it triumpliantly. I should like to confront an American
spelling-match with ' Magdalen/ though, and about eleven
other valuable orthogi-aphical specimens that I am taking
care of.

In due course we all started for the river, finding our way
through quads even greyer and greener and quieter than Exeter,
and finally turning into a pretty, wide, tree-bordered highway,
much too well trodden to be a popular Lovers' Walk, but dustily
pleasant and shaded withal. We were almost an hour too early
for the races, as Mr. Horton and Lord Syraonds wished to take
us on the river before they were obliged to join their respective
crews, and met hardly anybody except occasional strolling, loose-
garmented undergraduates with very various ribbons on their
round straw hats, which they took off with a kind of spasmodic
gravity when they happened to know our friends. The tree-
bordered walk ended more or less abruptly at a small stream,
bordered on its hither side by a series of curious constructions
reminding one of all sorts of things, from a Greek warship to a
Methodist church in Dakota, and wonderfully painted. These,
Mr. Horton explained, were the College barges, from which the
race was viewed, and he led the way to the Exeter barge.
There is a stairway to these barges, leading to the top, and Mr.
Horton showed us up, to wait until he and Lord Symonds got
out the punt.

The word * punting ' was familiar to nie, signifying an
aquatic pursuit popular in England, but I had never even seen
a punt, and was very curious about it. I cannot say, however,
that the English punt, when our friends brought it round,
struck me as a beautiful object. Doubtless it had points of
excellence, even of grace, as compared with other punts — I do
not wish to disparage it — but I suffered from the lack of a

250 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

standard to admire it by. It seemed to me an uninteresting
vessel, and I did not like the way it was cut ojff at the ends.
The mode of propulsion, too, by which Mr. Horton and Lord
Symoiids got us around the river — poking a stick into the mud
at the bottom and leaning on it — did not impress me as being
dignified enough for anybody in Society. Lord Symonds asked
me, as we sat in one end enjoying the sun — you get to like it in
England, even on the back of your neck — what I thought of
punting. I told him I thought it was immoderately safe. It
was the most polite thing I could think of at the spur of the
moment. I do not believe punting would ever become popular
in America. We are a light-minded people ; we like an
element of joyous risk; we are not adapted to punt.

The people were beginning to come down upon the barges
when we returned from this excursion, and it was thought best
that we should take our places. The stream was growing very
full, nob only of laborious punts containing three brightly-dressed
ladies and one perspiring young man, but of all kinds of craft,
some luxuriously overshadowed with flounced awnings, under
which young gentlemen with cigarette-attachments reposed,
protecting themselves further with Japanese paper umbrellas.
The odd part of this was that both they and their umbrellas
seemed to be taken by themselves and everybody else quite au
serieiix. This, again, would be different in America.

Mr. Horton left us with Lord Symonds, who had not to
row, he explained 'to us, until later in the day; and presently
we saw our host below, with the rest of his bare-legged, mus-
cular crew, getting gingerly into the long, narrow outrigger
lying alongside. They arranged themselves with great care
and precision, and then held their oars, looking earnestly at a
little man who sat up very straight in the stern — the cox. He

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 251

was my first cox, for I had never seen a boat-race before, ex-
cepting between champions, who do not row with coxes, and 1
was delighted to find how accurately he had been described in
the articles we read about English boating — his size, his erect -
ness and alertness, and autocratic dignity. At a word from
the cox every man turned his head half-way round and back
again ; then he said, in the sternest accents I had ever heard,
' Are — you — ready ? ' and in an instant they were off.

' Where are they going ? ' Lady Torquilin asked.

' Oh, for a preliminary spin,' said Lord Syraonds, ' and then
for the starting-point.*

' And when do the barges start ? ' I inquired, without
having given the matter any kind of consideration.

' The barges ! ' said Lord Symonds, mystified. ' Do you
mean these ? They don't start ; they stay here.'

' But can we see the race from here ? ' I asked.

' Beautifully ! They come past.'

* Do I understand. Lord Symonds, that the Oxford boat-race
takes place out there ? '

' Certainly,' said he. * Why not ? '

' Oh, no particular reason,' I returned — * if there is room.'

* Rather ! ' the young gentleman explained. ' This is the
noble river Isis, Miss Wick.'

* It may not be so big as the Mississippi, but it's worthy of
your respectful consideration, young lady,' put in Lady Tor-
quilin. Thus admonished, I endeavoured to give the noble
river Isis ray respectful consideration, but the barges occupied
so much space in it that I was still unable to understand how
a boat-race of any importance could come between us and the
opposite bank without seriously inconveniencing somebody.

It did, however, and such was the skill displayed by the

252 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

coxes in charge that nobody was hurt. It came off amid
demonstrations of the most extraordinary nature, tin whistles
predominating, on the opposite bank, where I saw a genuine
bishop capering along with the crowd, waving his hat on his
stick. It came off straight and tense and arrowy, cheered to
the last stroke.

* So near it ! ' said Lord Symonds, after shouting * Well
rowed, Pembroke ! ' until he could shout no longer.

* Near what ? ' I asked.

* A bump,' said he, sadly ; ' but it was jolly well rowed ! '
and for the moment I felt that no earthly achievement could
compare with the making of bumps.

Such excitement I never eaw, among the Dons on the
barges — my first Dons, too, but they differed very much; I
could not generalise about them — among their wives, who
seemed unaggressive, youngish ladies, as a rule, in rather subdued
gowns ; among the gay people down from ' Town,' among the
college men, incorrigibly uproarious ; among that considerable
body of society that adds so little to the brilliance of such an
occasion but contributes so largely to its noise. And after it
was over a number of exuberant young men on the other side
plunged into the noble river Isis and crossed it with a faw well-
placed strides, and possibly two strokes. None of them were
drowned.

After that we had a joyous half-hour in the apartments, at
Exeter, of Mr. Bertie Corke, whose brown eyes had Peter's
very twinkle in them, and who became established in our affec-
tions at once upon that account. Mr. Corke was one of
the Exeter Eight, and he looked reproachfully at us when we
inadvertently stated that we had lingered to congratulate Pem-
broke.

A GENUINE BISHOP.

254 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* Pembroke got a bump, you know, yesterday,' I remarked,
proud of the technicality.

' Yes,' returned Mr. Bertie Corke, ruefully, ' bumped us^

This was an unfortunate beginning, but it did not mar our
subsequent relations with Miss Peter Corke's brother, which
were of the pleasantest description. He told us on the way
down once more to the noble river Isis the names of all those
delightful elderly stone images that had themselves put over
the college doors centuries ago, when they were built, and he
got almost as many interiors into half an hour as his sister
could. He explained to us, too, how, by the rules of the Uni-
versity, he was not allowed to play marbles on the college steps,
or to wear clothes of other than an * obfusc hue,' which was
exactly the kind of thing that Peter would tell you — and
expect you to remember. He informed us, too, that according
to the pure usage of Oxonian English he was a * Fresher,' the
man we had just passed being an unattached student, a
* tosher,* probably walking for what in the vulgar tongue might
be called exercise, but here was ' ekker.' In many ways he
was like Peter, and he objected just as much to my abuse of
the English climate.

The second race was very like the first, with more enthu-
siasm. I have a little folding card with ' The Eights, May 22
to 28, 1890,' and the names of the colleges in the order of
starting, printed in blue letters on the inside. The ' order of
finish ' from ' B. N. C to ' St. Edm. Hall ' is in Jilr- Bertie
Corke's handwriting. I'm not a sentimentalist, but I liked the
Eights, and I mean to keep this souvenir.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

255

XXIV

HE records of my ex-
periences in London
would be very incom-
plete without another
chapter devoted to
those Miss Peter
Corke arranged for
me. Indeed, I would
need the license of
many chapters to ex-
plain at any length
how generously Miss
Corke fulfilled to me the offices of guide, philosopher, and friend ;
how she rounded out my days with counsel, and was in all of
them a personal blessing.

Dispensing information was a habit which Peter Corke
incorrigibly established — one of the things she could not help.
I believe an important reason why she liked me was because I
gave her such unlimited opportunities for indulging it, and she
said I simulated gratitude fairly well. For my own part, I
always liked it, whether it was at the expense of my accent or
my idioms, my manners or my morals, my social theories or my
general education, and encouraged her in it. I was pleased with

256 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

the idea that she found me interesting enough to make it worth
while, for one thing, and then it helped my understanding of
the lady herself better than anything else would have done.
And many voyages and large expense might go into the balance
against an acquaintance with Peter Corke.

Miss Corke was more ardently attached to the Past than any-
body I have ever known or heard of that did not live in it. Her
interest did not demand any great degree of antiquity, though
it increased in direct ratio with the centuries ; the mere fact
that a thing was over and done with, laid on the shelf, or getting
mossy and forgotten, was enough to secure her respectful con-
sideration. She liked old folios and prints — it was her pastime
to poke in the dust of ages ; I've seen her placidly enjoying a
graveyard — with no recent interments — for half an hour at a
time. She had a fine scorn of the Present in all its forms and
phases. If I heard her speak with appreciation of anybody with
whose reputation I was unacquainted, I generally found it safe
to ask, intelligently, * When did he die ? * She always knew
exactly, and who attended the funeral, and what became of the
children, and whether the widow got an annuity from the
Government or not. being usually of the opinion that the widow
should have had the annuity.

Of course, it w^s Miss Corke who took me down into Fleet
Street to see where Dr. Johnson used to live. I did not hear
the name of Dr. Johnson from another soul in London during
the whole of my visit. My friend bore down through the
Strand, and past that mediaeval griffin where Temple Bar was,
that claws the air in protection of your placid Prince in a frock-
coat underneath — stopping here a.n instant for anathema — and
on into the crook of Fleet Street, under St. Paul's, with all the
pure delight of an enthusiastic cicerone in her face. I think

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 257

Peter loved the Strand and Fleet Street almost as well as Dr.
Johnson did, and she always wore direct descendants of the
seven-league boots. This was sometimes a little trying for mine,

which had no pedigree, though, in other respects ; but I must

not be led into the statement that shoemaking is not scientific-
ally apprehended in this country. 1 have never yet been able
to get anybody to believe it.

* This,' said Miss Corke, as we emerged from a dark little
alley occupied by two unmuzzled small boys and a dog into a
dingy rectangle, where the London light came down upon un-
blinking rows of windows in walls of all colours that get the
worse for wear — ' this is Gough Court. Dr. Johnson lived here
until the death of his wife. You remember that he had a wife,
and she died ? '

^ I have not the least doubt of it,' I replied.

' I've no patience with you ! ' cried Miss Corke, fervently.
* Well, when she died he was that disconsolate, in spite of his
dictionaries, that he couldn't bear it here any longer, and moved
away.'

' I don't think that was remarkable,' I said, looking round ;
to which Miss Corke replied that it was a fine place in those
days, and Johnson paid so many pounds, shillings, and pence
rent for it every Lady Day. ' I am waiting,' she said, with
ironical resignation, ' for you to ask me which house.'

' Oh ! ' said L ' Which house ? '

*That yellowish one, at the end, idjifcl' said Peter, with
exasperation. ' Now, if you please, we'll go ! '

I took one long and thoughtful look at the yellowish house
at the end, and tried to imagine the compilation of lexicons inside
its walls about the year 1748, and turned away feeling that I
had done all within my personal ability for the memory of Dr.

258 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Johnson. Mips Corke, however, was not of that opinion. ' He
moved to Johnson's Court somewhat later/ she said, * which
you must be careful to remember was not named from him.
We'll just go there now.'

' Is it far ? ' I asked ; * because there must be other celebri-
ties '

' 'Far !' repeated Miss Corke, with a withering accent ; ' not
ten minutes' walk ! Do the trams run everywhere in America?
There may be other celebrities — London is a good place for
them — but there's only one Samuel Johnson.'

We went through various crooked ways to Johnson's Court,
Miss Corke explaining and reviling at every step. ' We hear^
she remarked with fine scorn, ' of intelligent Americans who
come over here and apply themselves diligently to learn London !
And I've never met a citizen of you yet,' she went on, ignoring
my threatening parasol, ' that was not quite satisfied at seeing
one of Johnson's houses — houses he lived in ! You are a nation
of tasters, Miss Mamie Wick of Chicago ! ' At which I declared
myself, for the honour of the Stars and Stripes, willing to
swallow any quantity of Dr. Johnson, and we turned into a little
paved parallelogram seven times more desolate than the first.
Its prevailing idea was soot, relieved by scraps of blackened ivy
that twisted along some of the window-sills. I once noticed
very clever ivy decorations in iron upon a London balcony, and
always afterwards found some difficulty in deciding between
that and the natural vine, unless the wind blew. And 1 would
not like to commit myself about the ivy that grew in Johnson's
Court. * Dear me ! ' said I ; ' so he lived here, too ! ' I do not
transcribe this remark because it struck me as particularly
clever, but because it seems to me to be the kind of thing any-
body might have said without exciting indignation. But Peter

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 259

immediately began to fulminate again. ' Yes,' she said, * he
lived here too, miss, at No. 7, as you don't appear to care
to know. A little intelligent curiosity,' she continued, ap-
parently appealing to the Samuel Johnson chimneys, ' would
be gratifying ! '

We walked around these precincts several times, while Miss
Corke told me interesting stories that reminded me of Collier's
' English Literature ' at school, and asked me if by any chance I
had ever heard of Boswell. I loved to find myself knowing
something occasionally, just to annoy Peter, and when I said
certainly, he was the man to whom Dr. Johnson owed his repu-
tation, it had quite the usual effect.

' We shall now go to Bolt Court,' said my friend, ' where
Samuel spent the last of his days, surrounded by a lot of old
ladies that I don't see how he ever put up with, and from which
he was carried to Westminster Abbey in 1784. Hadn't you
better put that down ? '

Now Peter Corke would never have permitted me to call
Dr. Johnson ' Samuel.'

I looked round Johnson's Court with lingering affection, and
hung back. 'There is something about this place,* I said,
' some occult attraction, that makes me hate to leave it. I
believe, Peter, that the Past, under your influence, is beginning
to affect me properly. I dislike the thought of remaining for
any length of time out of reach, as it were, of the memory of
Dr. Johnson,'

Peter looked at me suspiciously. ' He lived at Bolt Court
as well,' she said.

' Nowhere between here and there ? ' I asked. ' No friend's
house, for instance, where he often spent the night ? Where
did that lady live who used to give him nineteen cups of tea at

26o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

a sitting ? Couldn't we pause and refresh ourselves by looking
at her portals on the way ? *

* Transatlantic impertinence,' cried Miss Corke, leading the
way out, * is more than I can bear ! '

' But,' I said, still hanging back, ' about how far ? '

When my dear friend gave vent to the little squeal with which
she received this, I knew that her feelings were worked up to a
point where it was dangerous to tamper with them, so I sub-
mitted to Bolt Court, walking with humility all the way. When
we finally arrived I could see no intrinsic difference between this
court and the others, except that rather more — recently — current
literature had blown up from an adjacent news-stall. For a
person who changed his residence so often, Dr. Johnson's
domestic tastes must have undergone singularly little altera-
tion.

*He went from here to Westminster Abbey, I think you
said,' I remarked, respectfully, to Peter.

' In 1784,' said Peter, who is a stickler for dates.

* And has not moved since ! ' I added, with some anxiety, just
to aggravate Peter, who was duly aggravated.

' Well,' I responded, ' we saw Westminster Abbey, you
remember. And I took particular notice of the monument to
Dr. Johnson. We needn't go ihere.^

* It's in St. Paul's ! ' said Peter, in a manner which wounded
me, for if there is an unpleasant thing it is to be disbelieved.

' And which house did Dr. Johnson live in here ? ' I
inquired.

' Come,' said Peter, solemnly, ' and I'll show you.'

* It has been lost to posterity,' she continued, with depres-
sion — ' burnt in 1819. But we have the site — there ! '

*0h!' I replied. 'We have the site. That is— that is

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 261

something, I suppose. But I don't find it very stimulating to
the imagination.'

' You haven't any ! ' remarked Miss Corke, with vehemence ;
and I have no doubt she had reason to think so. As a matter of
fact, however, the name of Samuel Johnson is not a household
word in Chicago. We don't govern our letter-writing by his
Dictionary, and as to the ' Tatler ' and the ' Rambler,' it is
impossible for people living in the United States to read up the
back numbers of even their own magazines. It is true that we
have no excuse for not knowing ' Rasselas,' but I've noticed
that at home hardly any of the English classics have much
chance against Rider Haggard, and now that Rudyard Kipling
has arisen it will be worse still for elderly respectable authors
like Dr. Johnson. So that while I was deeply interested to
know that the great lexicographer had hallowed such a con-
siderable part of London with his residence, I must confess, to
be candid, that I would have been satisfied with fewer of his
architectural remains. I could have done, for instance, without
the site, though I dare say, as Peter says, they were all good
for me.

Before I reached Lady Torquilin's flat again that day, Peter
showed me the particular window in Wine Office Court where
dear little Goldsmith sat deploring the bailiff and the landlady
when Dr. Johnson took the ' Vicar ' away and sold it for sixty
pounds- -that delightful old fairy godfather whom everybody
knows so much better than as the author of ' Rasselas.' And
the ' Cheshire Cheese,' on the other side of the way, that quaintest
of low-windowed taverns, where the two sat with their friends
over the famous pudding that is still served on the same day of
the week. Here I longed in especial to go inside and inquire
about the pudding, and when we might come down and have

262 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

some ; but Peter said it was not proper for ladies, and hurried
me on. As if an}'^ impropriety could linger about a place a
hundred and fifty years old !

The Temple also we saw that day, and Goldsmith's quiet,
solitary grave in the shadow of the old Knights' Church, more
interesting and lovable there, somehow, than it would be in the
crowd at Westminster. Miss Peter Corke was entirely delight-
ful in the Temple, whether she talked of Goldsmith's games and
dancing over Blackstone's sedate head in Brick Court, or of
Elizabeth sitting on the wide platform at the end of the Middle
Temple Hall at the first performance of ' Twelfth Night,' where,
somewhere beneath those dusky oak rafters, Shakespeare made
another critic. Peter never talked scandal in the present tense,
on principle, but a more interesting gossip than she was of a
century back I never had a cup of tea with, which we got not
so very far from the Cock Tavern in Fleet Street ; and I had
never known before that Mr. Pepys was a flirt.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

263

XXV

R. MAFFERTON frequently
expressed his regret that al-
most immediately after my
arrival in London — in fact,
during the time of my dis-
appearance from the Metro-
pole, and just as he became
aware of my being with Lady
Torquilin — his mother and
two sisters had been obliged
to go to the Riviera on ac-
count of one of the Misses
MafTerton's health. One
afternoon — the day before
they left, I believe — Lady Torquilin and I, coming in. found a
large assortment of cards belonging to the family, which were
to be divided between us, apparently. But, as Mr. Charles
Mafferton was the only one of them left in town, my acquaint-
ance with the MafFertons had made very little progress, except,
of course, with the portly old cousin I have mentioned before,
who was a lord, and who stayed in London through the entire
session of Parliament. This cousin and I became so well ac-
quainted, in spite of his being a lord, that we used to ask each
other conundrums. ' What do they call a black cat in London?'
was a favourite one of his. But I had the advantage of Lord
18

264 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

MafFert^n here, for he always forgot that he had asked the same
conundrum the last time we met, and thought me tremendously
clever when I answered, ' Puss, puss ! ' But, as I have said
before, there were very few particulars in which this nobleman
gratified my inherited idea of what a lord ought to be.

One of the Misses Mafferton — the one who enjoyed good
health — had very kindly taken the trouble to write to me from
the Riviera a nice friendly letter, saying how sorry they all were
that we did not meet before they left Town, and asking me to
make them a visit as soon as they returned in June. The letter
went on to say that they had shared their brother's anxiety
about me for some time, but felt quite comfortable in the thought
of leaving me so happily situated with Lady Torqnilin, an old
friend of their own, and was it not singular ? Miss Mafferton
exclaimed, in her pointed handwriting, signing herself mine
ever affectionately, E. F. Mafferton. I thought it was certainly
singularly nice of her to write to me like that, a perfect stranger;
and while T composed an answer in the most cordial terms I
could, I thought of all I had heard about the hearty hospitality
of the English — ' when once you know them.'

When I told Mr. Mafferton I had heard from his sister, and
how much pleasure the letter had given me, he blushed in the
most violent and unaccountable manner, but seemed pleased
nevertheless. It was odd to see Mr. Mafferton discomposed,
and it discomposed me. I could not in the least understand
why his sister's politeness to a friend of his should embarrass
Mr. Mafferton, and was glad when he said he had no doubt
Eleanor and I would be great friends, and changed the subject.
But it was about this time that another invitation from relatives
of Mr. Mafferton's living in Berkshire gave me my one always-
to-be -remembered experience of the country in England. Lady

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON . 25$

Torquilin was invited too, but the invitation was for a Tuesday
and Wednesday particularly full of engagements for her.

* Couldn't we write and say we'd rather come next week ? *
I suggested.

Lady Torquilin looked severely horrified. ^ I should think
not\' she replied. * You're not in America, child. I hardly
know these people at all ; moreover, it's you they want to see,
and not me in the least. So I'll just send my apologies, and tell
Mrs. Stacy you're an able-bodied young woman who gets about
wonderfully by herself, and that she may expect you by the
train she proposes — and see that you don't outstay your invita-
tion, young lady, or I shall be in a fidget ! ' And Lady Torquilin
gave me her cheek to kiss, and went away and wrote to Mrs.
Stacy as she had said.

An hour or two beyond London the parallel tracks of the
main line stretched away in the wrong direction for me, and
my train sped down them, leaving me for a few minutes
undecided how to proceed. The little station seemed to
have nothing whatever to do with anything but the main line.
It sat there in the sun and cultivated its flower-beds, and
waited for the big trains to come thundering by, and had no
concern but that. Presently, however, I observed, standing all
by itself beside a row of tulips under a clay bank on the other
side of the bridge, the most diminutive thing in railway trans-
port I had ever seen. It was quite complete, engine and cab,
and luggage-van and all, with its passenger accommodation pro-
perly divided into first, second, and third class, and it stood
there placidly, apparently waiting for somebody. And I followed
my luggage over the bridge with the quiet conviction that this
was the train for Pinbury, and that it was waiting for mo.

266 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

There was nobody else. And after the porter liad stowed my
effects carefully away in the van he also departed, leaving the Pin-
bury train in my charge. I sat in it for a while and admired the
tulips, and wondered how soon it would rain, and fixed my veil,
and looked over the ' Daily Graphic' again, but nothing hap-
])nnecl. It occurred to me that possibly the little Pinbury train
had been forgotten, and I got out. There was no one on the
platform, but just outside the station I saw a rusty old coachman
sealed on the box of an open landau, so I spoke to him. 'Does
tliat train go to Pinbury?' I asked. He said it did. ' Does
it go to-day?' I inquired further. He looked amused at my
ignorance. ' Oh yes, lady,' he replied ; ' she goes every day —
twice. But she 'as to wait for two hup trains yet. She'll be
hoff in about 'alf an hour now ! ' — this reassuringly.

When we did start it took us exactly six minutes to get to
Pinbury, and I was sorry I had nqt tipped the engine-driver and
got him to run down with me and back again while he was
waiting. Wliatever they may say to the contrary, there are few
things in England that please Americans more than the omni-
potence of the tip.

Two of the Stacy young ladies met me on the Pinbury plat-
form, and* gave me quite the most charming welcome I have
had in England. With, the exception of Peter Corke— and
Peter would be exceptional anywhere — I had nearly always
failed to reach any sympathetic relation with the young ladies
I had come in contact with in London. Perhaps this was be-
cause I did not see any of them very often or very long together,
and seldom without the presence of some middle-aged lady who
controlled the conversation ; but the occasions of my meeting
with the London girl had never sufficed to overcome the natural
curiosiry with which she usually regarded me. I rejoiced when

268 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

I saw that it would be different witli Miss Stacy and Miss'
Dorothy Stacy, and probably with the other Misses Stacy at
home. They regarded me with outspoken iut;erestj but not at
all with fear. They were very polite, but their politeness was
of the gay, unconscious sort, which only impresses you when you
think of it afterwards. Delightfully pretty, though lacking
that supreme inertia of expression that struck me so often as
the finishing touch upon London beauty, and gracefully tall,
without that impressiveness of development 1 had observed in
town. Miss Dorothy Stacy's personality gave me quite a new
pleasure. It was invested in round pink cheeks and clear grey
eyes, among other things that made it most agreeable to look at
her ; and yellow hair that went rippling down her back ; and
the perfect freshness and unconsciousness of her beauty, with
her height and her gentle muscularity, reminded one of an
immature goddess of Oljmpia, if sudh a person could be imagined
growing up. Miss Dorothy Stacy was sixteen past, and in a
later moment of confidence she told me that she lived in dread
of being obliged to turn up her hair and wear irretrievably long
* frocks.* I found this unreasonable, but charming. In America
all joys are grown up, and the brief period of pinafores is one of
probation.

We drove away in a little brown dogcart behind a little
brown pony into the English country, talking a great deal. Miss
Stacy drove, and I sat beside her, while Miss Dorothy Stacy
occupied the seat in the rear when she was not alighting in the
middle of the road to pick up the Pinbury commissions, which
did not travel well, or the pony's foot, to see if he had a stone
in it. The pony objected with mild viciousness to having his
foot picked up ; but Miss Dorothy did not take his views into
account at all ; up came the foot and out came the stone. The

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 269

average American girl would have driven helplessly along until
she overtook a man, I think.

I never saw a finer quality of mercy anywhere than the Stacy
young ladies exhibited toward their beast. When we came to
a rising bit of road Miss Dorothy invariably leaped down and
walked as well as the pony, to save him fatigue ; when a slight
declivity presented itself he walked again solemnly to the
bottom, occasionally being led. He expected this attention
always at such times, pausing at the top and looking round for
it, and when it was withheld his hind-quarters assumed an
aggrieved air of irresponsibility. When Miss Stacy wished to
increase his rate of going by a decimal point, she flicked him
gently, selecting a spot where communication might be made with
his brain at least inconvenience to himself; but she never did any-
thing that would really interfere with his enjoyment of the drive.

Of course, Miss Stacy wanted to know what I thought of
England in a large general way, but before I had time to do
more than mention a few heads under which I had gathered my
impressions she particularised with reference to the scenery.
Miss Stacy asked me what I thought of English scenery, with
a sweet and ladylike confidence, including most of what we were
driving through, with a graceful flourish of her whip. She said
I might as well confess that we hadn't such nice scenery in
America. ' Grander, you know — more mountains and lakes and
things,' said Miss Stac}^, * but not realhj so nice, now, have
you ? ' No, I said ; unfortunately it was about the only thing
we couldn't manage to take back with us ; at which Miss Stacy
astonished me with the fact that she knew I was going to be
a treat to her — so original — and I must be simply craving my
tea, and it was good of me to come, and flicked the pony severely,
so that he trotted for almost half a mile without a pause.

270 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

But we returned to the scenery, for I did not wish to be
thought unappreciative, and the Misses Sf acy were good enough
to be interested in the points that I found particularly novel
and pleasing — the flowering hedges that leaned up against the
fields by the wayside, and the quantities of little birds that
chirruped in and out of them, and the trees, all twisted round
with ivy, and especially the rabbits, that bobbed about in the
meadows and turned up their little white tails with as much
naivete as if the world were a kitchen-garden closed to the
public. The ' bunnies,' as Miss Dorothy Stacy called them,
were a source of continual delight to me. I could never refrain
from exclaiming, ' There's another ! ' much to the young ladies'
amusement. ' You see,' explained Miss Dorothy in apology,
' they're not new to us, the dear sweet things ! One might
say one has been brought up with them, one knows all their
little ways. But they are loves, and it is nice of you to like
them.'

The pony stopped altogether on one little rise, as if he wert^
accustomed to it, to allow us to take a side-look across the
grey-green fields to where they lost themselves in the blue dis-
tance, in an effort to climb. It was a lovely landscape, full of
pleasant thoughts, ideally still and gently conscious. There was
the glint of a river in it, white in the sun, with twisting lines
of round-headed willows marking which way it went; and
other trees in groups and rows threw soft shadows across the
contented fields. These trees never blocked the view ; one
could always see over and beyond them into other peaceful
stretches, with other clumps and lines, greyer and smaller as they
neared the line where the low, blue sky thickened softly into
clouds and came closer down. An occasional spire, here and
there a farmhouse, queer, old-fashioned hayricks gossiping in

AY AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 271

the comers of the fields, cows, horses, crows. All as if it had
been painted bj a tenderly conscientious artist, who economised
his carmines and allowed himself no caprices except in the
tattered hedge, full of May, in the foreground ; all as if Nature
had understood a woman's chief duty to be tidy and delectable,
except for this ragged hem of her embroidered petticoat. I
dare say it would not seem so to you ; but the country as I had
known it in America had been an expanse of glowing colour,
diversified by a striking pattern of snake-fences, relieved by
woods that nobody had ever planted, and adorned by the bare,
commanding brick residences of the agricultural population.
Consequently, delightful as I found this glimpse of English
scenery, I could not combat the idea that it had all been care-
fully and beautifully made, and was usually kept under cotton-
wool. You would understand this if you knew the important
part played in our rural districts by the American stump.

' Isn't it lovely?' asked Miss Stacy, with enthusiasm. Two
cows in the middle distance suddenly disappeared behind a hay-
rick, and for a moment the values of the landscape became con-
fused. Still, 1 was able to say that it was lovely, and so neat —
which opinion I was obliged to explain to Miss Stacy, as I
have to you, while the brown pony took us thoughtfully on.

272

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXVI

DROVE in at the gates of
Hallington House as one
might drive into the scene of
a dear old dream — a dream
that one has half- believed and
half-doubted, and wholly
'l^^'^t-' loved, and dreamed again
all one's life long. There
it stood, as I had always
wondered if I might not
see it standing in that
far day when I should go to
England, behind its high brick wall, in the midst of its ivies
and laburnums and elms and laurel-bushes, looking across where
its lawns dipped into its river at soft green meadows sloping to
the west — a plain old solid grey stone English country-house so
long occupied with the birthdays of other people that it had
quite forgotten its own. Very big and very solid, without any
pretentiousness of Mansard roof, or bow window, or balcony, or
verandah ; its simple story of strength and shelter and home and
hospitality was plain to me between its wide-open gates and its
wide-open doors, and I loved it from that moment.

It was the same all through — the Stacys realised the England
of my imagination to me most sweetly and completely ; I found,

A.V AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 273

that there had been no mistake. Mrs. Stacy realised it, pretty and
fresh and fair at fifty, plump and motherly in her black cashmere
and lace, full of pleasant greetings and responsible inquiries. So
did the Squire, coming out of his study to ask, with courteous
old-fashioned solicitude, how I had borne the fatigue of the
journey — such a delightful old Squire, leftover by accident from
the last century, with his high-bred phraseology and simple
dignity and great friendliness. So did the rest of the Stacy
daughters, clustering round their parents and their guest
and the teapot, talking gaily with their rounded English
accent of all manner of things — the South Kensington
Museum, the Pinbury commissions, the prospects for tennis.
Presently I found myself taken through just such narrow cor
ridors and down just such unexpected steps as I would have
hoped for, to my room, and left there. I remember how a soft
wind came puffing in at the little low, tiny-paned window flung
back on its hinges, swelling out the muslin curtains and bring-
ing with it the sweetest sound I heard in England — a cry that was
quite new and strange, and yet came into me from the quiet
hedges of the nestling world outside, as I sat there bewitched
by it, with a plaintive familiarity — ' 07/ckoo !'...' Cuckoo ! '
I must have heard it and loved it years ago, when the Wicks
lived in England, through the ears of my ancestors. Then I
discovered that the room was full of a dainty scent that I had
not known before, and traced it to multitudinous little round
flower-bunches, palest yellow and palest green, that stood about
in everything that would hold them — fresh and pure and deli-
cious, all the tender soul of the spring in them, all the fairness
of the meadows and the love of the shy English sun. Ah, the
charm of it! It is almost worth while being brought up in
Chicago to come fresh to cuckoos and cowslips, and learn their

274 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

sweet meaning wlien you are grown up and can understand it.
I mean, of course, entirely apart from the inestimable advan-
tages of a Republican form of Government, female emancipation,
jind the climate of Illinois. We have no cowslips in Chicago, and
no cuckoos; and the cable cars do not seem altogether to make
up for them. I couldn't help wishing, as I leaned through my
low little window into the fragrant peace outside, that Nature
had taken a little more time with America.

* Cwckoo ! ' from the hedge again ! I could not go till the
answer came from the toppling elm-bonghs in the field corner,
' Cifcckoo ! ' And in another minute, if I listened, I should hear

-, .... ^ X.KJl.^.-.V>V»,

it agam.

Down below, in the meantime, out came two tid}^ httle
maids in cap and apron, and began to weed and to potter about
two tidy little plots — their own little gardens anybody might
know by the solicitude and the comparisons they indulged in —
the freedom, too, with which they pulled what pleased them-
selves. It was pretty to see the little maids, and I fell to con-
jecturing such a scene in connection with the domestic duchess
of Chicago, but without success. Her local interest could never
be sufficiently depended upon, for one thing. Marguerite might
plant, and Irene might water, but Arabella Maud would cer-
tainly gather the fruits of their labour, if she kept her place long
enough. And I doubt if the social duties of any of these ladies
would leave them time for such idylls.

* Ci^tikoo ! ' The bird caught it from the piping of the very
first lover's very first love-dream. How well he must have
listened ! . . . ' Owckoo ! '

I bade Miss Dorothy Stacy coriae in when I heard her knock
and voice ; and she seemed to bring with her, in her innocent
strength and youth and pinkness, a very fair and harmonious

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

275

counterpart of the cowslips and the cackoos. She came to know
if 1 wasn't comingr down to tea. ' Listen ! ' I said, as the sweet

! !^;-.6i

I ) I f lll^^^^^J

iMiiS'

'A 'Xh

TWO TIDY LITTLE MAIDS.'

cry came again. ' i was waiting till he had finished.' It was
better than no excuse at all.

276 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

* I think I can show you from here where I suspect they have
stolen a nest, lazy things ! ' answered Miss Dorothy, sympatheti-
cally, and she slipped her arm round ray waist as we looked out
of the window together in the suspected direction. * Then you
don't find them tiresome ? Some people do, you know.' * No,' I
said, ' I don't.' And then Miss Dorothy confided to me that she
was very glad ; ' for, you know,' she said, ' one canH like people
who find cuckoos tiresome,' and we concluded that we really must
go down to tea. At that point, however, I was obliged to ask
Miss Dorothy to wait until I did a little towards improving my
appearance. I had quite forgotten, between the cuckoos and the
cowslips, that I had come up principally to wash my face.

* You met our cousin on the ship crossing the Atlantic,
didn't you ? ' the third Miss Stacy remarked, enthusiastically,
over the teapot. ^ How delightfully romantic to make a— a
friend — a friend like that, I mean, on a ship in the middle of
the ocean ! Didn't you always feel perfectly comfortable after-
wards, as if, no matter what happened, he would be sure to save
you?'

* Kitty ! ' said Mrs. Stacy from the sofa, in a tone of helpless
rebuke. ^ Mother, darling ! ' said Kitty, ' I do beg your pardon !
Your daughter always speaks first and thinks afterwards, doesn't
she, sweetest mother! But you must have had that feeling,'
Miss Stacy continued to me ; 'I know you had ! '

^ Oh, no ! ' I returned. It was rather an awkward situation
— I had no wish to disparage Miss Stacy's cousin's heroism,
which, nevertheless, I had not relied upon in the least. 'I
don't think I thought about being drowned,' I said.

' That proves it ! ' she cried in triumph. ' Your confidence
was so perfect that it was unconscious ! Sweetest mother —
there, I won't say another word ; not another syllable, mother

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 277

mine, shall pass your daughter's lips! But one d>oes like to
show one's self in the right, doesn't one. Miss Wick?' — and
Mrs. Stacy surrendered to an impulsive volume of embraces
which descended from behind the sofa, chiefly upon the back of
her neck.

How pleasant it was, that five o'clock tea-drinking in the old-
fashioned drawing-room, with the jessamine nodding in at the
window and all the family cats gathered upon the hearthrug —
five in number, with one kitten. The Stacy's compromise in
the perpetually-recurring problem of new kittens was to keep
only the representative of a single generation for family affec-
tion and drawing-room privileges. The rest were obscurely
brought up in the stables and located as early as was en-
tirely humane with respectable cottagers, or darkly spoken of
as ' kitchen cats.' There had been only one break in the line
of posterity that gravely licked itself on the rug, or besought
small favours rubbingly with purrs — made by a certain Satanella,
who aie her hittens ! and suffered banishment in consequence.
But this was confided to me in undertones by the second Miss
Stacy, who begged me not to mention the matter to Dorothy.
* We don't talk about it often, for Satanella was her cat, you
know, and she can't get over her behaving so dreadfully.'
Each cat had its individual history, and to the great-great-
grandmother of them attached the thrilling tale, if I remember
rightly, of having once only escaped hanging by her own mus-
cular endurance and activity ; but none bore so dj,rk a blot as
covered the memory of Satanella. Perhaps it is partly owing
to my own fondness for pussies, but ever since I made the
acquaintance of the Stacys I must confess to disparaging a
family with no cats in it.

It was naturally Dorothy who took me out to see the

278 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

garden — sweet, shy Dorothy, who seemed so completely to have
grown in a garden that Lad}^ Torquilin, when she brought her
pink cheeks afterwards to gladden tJie llat in Cadogan
Mansions, dubbed her ' the Wild Rose ' at once. At any rate,
Dorothy had always lived just here beside her garden, and
never anywhere else, for she told me so in explaining her affec-
tion for it. I thought of the number of times we had moved in
Chicago, and sighed.

It was not a very methodical garden, Dorothy remarked in
apology — the dear sweet things mostly came up of their own
accord year after year, and the only ambition Peter entertained
towards it was to keep it reasonably weeded. A turn in the
walk disclosed Peter at the moment with a wheelbarrow — the
factotum of garden and stable, a solemn bumpkin of twenty,
with a large red face and a demeanour of extreme lethargy.
His countenance broke into something like a deferential grin as
he passed us. ' Can you make him understand ? ' I asked
Miss Dorothy. ^ Oh, I should think so ! ' she replied. ' He is
very intelligent ! ' From his appearance I should not have said
so. There was nothing ' sharp,' as we say in America, about
Peter, though afterwards I heard him whistling ' Two lovely
black eyes' with a volume of vigorous expression that made one
charge him with private paradoxical sweethearting. But I was
new to the human product after many generations of the fields
and hedges.

It was a square garden, shut in from the road and the
neighbours by that high old red-brick wall. A tennis-court lay
in the middle in the sun ; the house broke into a warmly-tinted
gable, red-roofed and plastered and quaint, that nestled over
the little maids in the larder, I think, at one end; a tall elm
and a spreading horse-chestnut helped the laurestinus bushes to

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 279

shut it in from the lawns and the drive and any eyes that might
not fall upon it tenderly. We sat down upon the garden-seat
that somebody had built round the elm, Dorothy and I, and I
looked at the garden as one turns the pages of an old story-
book. There were the daisies in the grass, to begin with, all
over, by hundreds and thousands, turning their bright little
white-and-yellow faces up at me and saying something — I don't
know quite what. I should have had to listen a long time to be
sure it was anything but ' Don't step on me ! ' but I had a vague
feeling that every now and then one said, ' Can't you
remember?' Dorothy remarked it was really disgraceful, so
many of them, and Peter should certainly mow them all down
in the morning — by which her pretty lips gave me a keen pang.

* Oh ! ' I said, ' what a pity ! ' ' Yes,' she said, relentingly,

* they are dear things, but they're very untidy. The worst of
Peter is,' she went on, with a shade of reflection, ' that we are
obliged to keep at him.'

I dare say you don't think much of daisies in the grass — you
have always had so many. You should have been brought up
on dandelions instead — in Chicago !

Then there were all the sweet spring English flowers grow-
ing in little companies under the warm brick wall — violets and
pansies and yellow daffodils, and in one corner a tall, brave
array of anemones, red and purple and white. And against
the wall rose-bushes and an ancient fig-tree ; and farther on,
all massed and tangled in its own dark-green shadows, the
ivy, pouring out its abundant heart to drape and soften the
other angle, and catch the golden rain of the laburnum that
hung over. And this English Dorothy, with her yellow hair
and young-eyed innocence, the essence and the flower of
it all.

28o AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

Near the stables, in our roundabout ramble to the kitchen-
garden, Dorothy showed me, with seriousness, a secluded corner,
holding two small mounds and two small wooden tablets. On
one the head of a spaniel was carved painstakingly and painted,
with the inscription, ' Here Lies a Friend.' The second tablet
had no bas-relief and a briefer legend : ' Here Lies Another.'
' Jack,' said she, with a shade of retrospection, ' and Jingo. Jack
died in — let me see — eighteen eighty-five. Jingo two years
later, in eighteen eighty-seven. I didn't do Jingo's picture,'
Miss Dorothy went on, pensively. ' It wasn't really necessary,
they were so very much alike.'

About the kitchen-garden I remember only how rampant
the gooseberry-bushes were, how portentous the cabbages, and
how the whole Vegetable Kingdom combined failed to keep out
a trailing company of early pink roses that had wandered in
from politer regions to watch th^ last of the sunset across the
river and beyond the fields.

' I have a letter to send,' said Miss Dorothy, ' and as we go
to the post-office you shall see Hallington.' So we went through
the gates that closed upon this dear inner world into the wind-
ing road. It led us past ' The Green Lion,' amiably couchant
upon a creaking sign that swung from a yellow cottage, past a
cluster of little houses with great brooding roofs of straw, past
the village school, in a somewhat bigger cottage, in one end
whereof the schoolmistress dwelt and looked out upon her
lavender and rue, to the post-office at the top of the hill, where
the little woman inside, in a round frilled cap and spectacles,
and her shawl pinned tidily across her breast, sold buttons and
thread, and ' sweeties ' and giuger ale, and other things. My
eye lighted with surprise upon a row of very familiar wedge-
ehaped tins, all blue and red. They contained corned beef,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 281

and they came from Chicago. ' I know the gentleman who
puts those up very well,' I said to Miss Dorothy Stacy ; ' Mr.
W. P. Hitt, of Chicago. He is a great friend of poppa's.
' Really ! ' said she, with slight embarrassment. ' Does he — does
he do it himself? How clever of him ! '

On the way back through the village of Hallington we met
several stolid little girls by ones and twos and threes, and every
little girl, as we approached, suddenly lowered her person and
her petticoats by about six inches and brought it up again in a
perfectly straight line, and without any change of expression
whatever. It seemed to me a singular and most amusing
demonstration, and Miss Dorothy explained that it was a curt-
sey — a very proper mark of respect. 'But surely,' she said,
' your little cottager girls in America curtsey to the ladies and
gentlemen they meet ! ' And Miss Dorothy found it difficult to
understand just why the curtsey was not a popular genuflection
in America, even if we had any little cottager girls to practise
it, which I did not think we had, exactly.

Later on we gathered round a fire, with the cats, under the
quaint old portraits of very straight-backed dead-and-gone
ladies Stacy in the drawing-room, and 1 told all I knew about
the Apache Indians and Niagara Falls. I think I also set the
minds of the Stacy family at rest about the curious idea that
we want to annex Canada — they had some distant relations
there, I believe, whom they did not want to see annexed —
although it appeared that the relations had been heterodox on
the subject, and had said they wouldn't particularly mind ! I
suggested that they were probably stock-raising in the North-
west out there, and found our tariff inconvenient; and the
Stacys said Yes, they were. I continued that the union they
would like to see was doubtless commercial, and not political ;

282

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

and the Stacys, when they thought of this, became more cheerful.
Further on, the Squire handed me a silver candlestick at the foot
of the stairs with the courtliness of three generations past; and
as I went to bed by candle-light for the first time in my life, I

MISS DOROTHY EXPLAINED THAT IT WAS A CURTSEY.'

wondered whether I would not suddenly arrive, like this, at the
end of a chapter, and find that I had just been reading one of
Rhoda Broughton's novels. But in the morning it came in at
the window with the scent of the lilacs, and I undoubtedly heard
it again — ' Cuckoo !'...' Ot^ckoo ! '

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 283

XXYII

* TTAVEN'T you some letters, child, to your Ambassador, or
_L_L whatever he is, here in London ? ' asked Lady Torquilin
one morning.

' Why, yes,' I said, * I have. I'd forgotten about them.
He is quite an old friend of poppa's — in a political way ; but
poppa advised me not to bother him so long as I wasn't in any
difficulty — he must have such lots of Americans coming over
here for the summer and fussing round every year, you know.
And I haven't been.'

* Well, you must now,' declared Lady Torquilin, * for I want
you to go to Court with me a fortnight from to-day. It's five
years since I've gone, and quite time I should put in an appear-
ance again. Besides, the Maffertons wish it.'

* The Maffertons wish it ? ' I said. ' Dear me ! I consider
that extremely kind. I suppose they think I would enjoy it
very much. And I dare say I should.*

* Lady Mafferton and I talked it over yesterday,' liady Tor-
quilin continued, ' and we agreed that although either she or I
might present you, it would be more properly done, on account
of your being an American, by your American man's wife.
Indeed, I dare say it's obligatory. So we must see about it.'

And Lady Torquilin and Lady Mafferton, with very little
assistance from me, saw about it.

In the moment that succeeded the slight shock of the novel

284 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

idea, I found a certain delirium in contemplating it that I could
not explain by any of the theories I had been brought up upon.
It took entire possession of me — I could not reason it away.
Even in reading my home letters, which usually abstracted mo
altogether for the time, I saw it fluttering round the corners of
tl 6 pages. ' What would they say,' I thought, * if they knew
I was going to be presented to the Queen — their daughter,
Mamie Wick, of Illinois ? ' Would they consider that I had com-
promised the strict Republican principles of the family, and
reprobate the proceeding ! The idea gave me a momentary con-
science-chill, which soon passed off, however, under the agreeable
recollection of poppa's having once said that he considered Her
Majesty a very fine woman, and for his part he would be proud
to be introduced to her. After all, being presented was only a
way of being introduced to her — the way they do it in England.
I felt pretty sure the family principles could stand that much.
As a matter of fact, you know, very few Americans have any
personal objection to royalty. And I dismissed the idea,
abandoning myself to the joy of preparation, which Lady Tur-
quilin decreed should begin the very next day. I thought this,
though pleasurable, rather unnecessary at first. ' Dear Lady
Torquilin,' said I, in the discussion of our Court dresses, ' can't
we see about them next week ? — we planned so many other
things for this one ! '

' Child, child,' returned Lady Torquilin, impressively, * in the
coming fortnight we have barely time ! You must know that
we don't do things by steam and electricity in this country.
You can't go to Court by pressing a button. We haven't a
moment to lose. And as to other arrangements, we must just
give everything up, so as to have our minds free and comfortable
till we get the whole business over.' Afterwards, about the

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

28c

" ' WHOEVER HEARD OF ATTENDING ONE OF HER MAJESTY'S DRAWING-ROOMS
IN A FROCK MADE IN NEW YORK 1 " '

286 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

seventh time I had my Court dress tried on, I became con-
vinced that Lady Torquilin was right. You do nothing by
steam and electricity in this country. I found that it took ten
days to get a pair of satin slippers made. Though, ' of course,
if you were not quite so particular, mi?ss, about that toe, or if
you 'ad come about them sooner, we could 'ave obliged you in
less time,' tbe shoemaker said. In less time ! A Chicago firm
would have made the slippers, gone into liquidation, had a
clearing sale, and reopened business at the old stand in less time !
I like to linger over that fortnight's excitement — its details
were so novel and so fascinating. First, the vague and the
general, the creation of two gowns for an occasion extraordinary,
mentioned by head ladies, in establishments where a portrait of
Her Majesty hung suggestively on the wall, almost with bated
breath. Lady Torquilin for once counselled a mild degree of
extravagance, and laughed at my ideas — though she usually
respected them about clothes — when I laid out for her inspection
three perfectly fresh New York dresses, quite ideal in their way,
and asked her if any of them would ' do.' ' You have a great
deal to learn, child ! ' she said. ' No, they won't, indeed ! Who
ever heard of attending one of Her Majesty's Drawing-Rooms
in a frock made in New York ! I'm not saying you haven't very
nice taste over there, my dear, for that you have ; but it stands
to reason that your dressmakers, not having Court instructions,
can't be expected to know anything about Court trains, doesnH
it ? ' From which there was no appeal, so that the next day or
two went in deep conferences with the head ladies aforesaid and
absorbed contemplation of resultant patterns — which Lady
Torquilin never liked to hear me call ' samples.' I was spared
the trial of deciding upon a colour combination ; being a young
lady I was to go in white, Lady Torquilin gave me to under-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 287

stand, by edict of the Court. But should I have the train or
the petticoat of the brocade, or would I prefer a bengaline train
with a bodice and petticoat of cfr^i^p, due chine ? Should the train
come from the shoulder or be ' fulled ' in at the waist ; and
what did I really think myself about ostrich tips grouped down one
side, or bunches of field flowers dispersed upon the petticoat, or
just a suggestion of silver embroidery gleaming all through ; or
perhaps mademoiselle might fancy an Empress gown, which
would be thoroughly good style— they had made three for the
last Drawing-Room ? I had never been so wrouglit up about
any dress before. Privately, I compared it to Lady Torquilin
with the fuss that is made about a wedding-dress. ' My dear,'
she exclaimed, candidly, ' a wedding-dress is nothing to it ; as
I dare say,' she added, roguishly pinching my cheek in a way
she had, ' it won't be long before you find out ! ' But I don't
think Lady Torquilin really knew at the time anything about
this.

It was not too much to say that those two Court dresses —
Lady Torquilin was going in a scheme of pansy-coloured velvet
and heliotrope — haunted our waking and sleeping hours for
quite five days. Peter Corke, dropping in almost at the
beginning, declared it a disgraceful waste of time, with the
whole of Chelsea a dead-letter to me, and came again almost
every afternoon that week to counsel and collaborate for an
hour and a half. I may say that Miss Corke took the matter
in hand vigorously. It was probably a detail in the improve
ment of my mind and my manners which she could not con-
scientiously overlook. ' Since you have the audacity to wish
to kiss the hand of a sovereign who is none of yours,' said
she, with her usual twinkle, ' you'll kindly see that you do it
properly, miss ! ' So she gave us explicit instructions as to

288 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

the right florist, and glover, and laceman, and hairdresser, to
which even Lady Torquilin listened with respect ; ' and do not
he 'persuaded^' said she, with mock-severe emphasis, 'to go to
anybody else. These people are dear, but you are perfectly
safe with them, and that's important, don't you think ? ' Peter
even brought over a headdress she wore herself the season
before, to get the American effect, she said, and offered to lend
it to me. It consisted of three white ostrich feathers aud a
breadth of Brussels net about a yard and a half long hanging
down behind, and I found it rather trying as an adornment.
So I told her I was very much obliged, but I didn't consider it
becoming, and I thought I would go with nothing on my
head. At which she screamed her delightful little scream,
and said indeed I wouldn't, if the Lord Chamberlain had any-
thing to say in the matter. And when I found out just how
much the Lord Chamberlain had to say in the matter — how he
arranged the exact length of my train and cut of my bodice,
and what I wore in my hair — the whole undertaking, while it
grew in consequence, grew also in cliarm. It was interesting
in quite a novel way to come within the operation of these
arbitrary requirements connected with the person of royalty.
I liked getting ready to go to Court infinitely better than if I
had been able to do it quite my own way, and the Lord
Chamberlain had had nothing to do with it. I enjoyed his
interference. This was hard to reconcile with democratic prin-
ciples, too. I intend to read up authorities in Anglo-American
fiction who may have dealt with the situation when I get home,
to see if they shed any light upon it, just for my own satisfac-
tion. But I think it is a good thing that the Lord Cham-
berlain's authority stops where it does. It would be simple
tyranny if he were allowed to prescribe colours for middle-aged

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

289

ladies, for instance, and had commanded Lady Torquilin to
appear in yellow, which is almost the only colour she can't
wear. As it was, he was very nice indeed about it, allowing

I FOUND THE CURTSEY DIFFICULT AT FIBST.

her to come in a V-shaped bodice on account of her predisposi-
tion to bronchitis ; but she had to write and ask him very
politely indeed. He told her by return post — of course it was

290 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

not a private letter, but a sort of circular — ^just which dress-
makers had the V-shaped patterns the Queen liked best in such
cases as hers, and Lady Torquilin at once obtained them.
After that she said she had no further anxiety — there was
nothing like going straight to the proper sources for informa-
tion to have a comfortable mind. With that letter, if anything
went wrong, the Lord Chamberlain could clearly be made re-
sponsible — and what did one want more than that ?

One thing that surprised me during that fortnight of pre-
paration was the remarkable degree of interest shown in our
undertaking by all our friends. I should have thought it an
old story in London, but it seemed just as absorbing a topic to
the ladies who came to see Lady Torquilin on her ' day,* and
who had lived all their lives in England, as it was to me. They
were politely curious upon every detail ; they took another cup
of tea, and said it was really an ordeal ; they seemed to take a
sympathetic pleasure in being, as it were, in the swirl of the
tide that was carrying us forward to the Royal presence. If
the ladies had been presented themselves they gave us graphic
and varying accounts of the occasion, to which we listened with
charmed interest ; if not, they brought forth stories, if anything
more thrilling, of what had happened to other people they knew
or had heard of — the lady whose diamond necklace broke as she
bent ; the lady who forgot to take the silver paper out of her
train at home, and left it in the arms of the Gentlemen of the
Court as she sailed forward; the lady who was attacked by
violent hysteria just as she passed the Duke of Edinburgh.
Miss Corke's advice — though we relied upon nobody else — was
supplemented fifty times ; and one lady left us at half-past six
in the afternoon, almost in tears, because she had failed to per-
suade me to take a few lessons, «.t a guinea a lesson, from a

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON ,291

French lady who made a specialty of debutante presentations.
I think I should have taken them, the occasion found me with
so little self-reliance, if it had not been for Lady Torquilin.
But Lady Torquilin said No, certainly not, it was a silly waste
of money, and she could show me everything that was necessary
for all practical purposes as well as Madame Anybody. So
several mornings we had little rehearsals, Lady Torquilin and
I, after breakfast, in my room, by which I profited much. We
did it very simply, with a towel and whatever flowers were left
over from dinner the night before. I would pin the towel to
my dress behind and hold the flowers, and advance from the
other end of the room to Lady Torquilin, who represented
Her Majesty, and gave me her hand to kiss. I found the
curtsey difficult at first, especially the getting up part of it,
and Lady Torquilin was obliged to give me a great deal of
practice. * Remember one thing about the Queen's hand abso-
lutely, child,' said she. ' You're not, under any circumstances
whatever, to help yourself up by it ! ' And then I would be the
Queen, and Lady Torquilin, just to get into the way of it
again, would pin on the towel and carry the roses, and curtsey
to me.

292 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXVIII

I KNOW I sLall enjoy writing this chapter, I enjoyed its
prospective contents so much. To be perfectly candid, I
liked going to Court better than any other thing I did in
England, not excepting Madame Tussaud's. or the Beefeaters at
the Tower, or even ' Our Flat ' at the Strand. It did a great
deal to reconcile me, practically, with monarchical institutions,
although, chiefly on poppa's account, I should like it to be under-
stood that my democratic theories are still quite unshaken in
every respect.

It seems to me, looking back upon it, that we began to go
very early in the morning. I remember a vision of long white
boxes piled up at the end of the room through the grey of dawn,
and a very short nap afterwards, before the maid came knocking
with Lady Torquilin's inquiries as to how I had slept, and did I
remember that the hairdreseer was coming at nine sharp ? Tt
was a gentle knock, but it seemed to bristle with portent as I
heard it, and brought with it the swift realisation that this was
Friday at last — the Friday on which I should see Queen Victoria.
And yet, of course, to be quite candid, that was only half the
excitement the knock brought ; the other half was that Queen
Victoria should see me, for an instant and as an individual.
There was a very gratifying flutter in that.

The hairdresser was prompt. She came just as Charlotte
was going out with the tray, Lady Torquilin having decreed

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 293

that we should take our morning meal in retirement. She was
a kind, pleasant, loquacious hairdresser.

* I'm glad to see you've been able to take a good breakfast,
miss,' she said, as she puffed and curled me. ' That's 'alf the
battle ! ' She was sorry that she had to come to us so early, ' but
not until two o'clock, miss, do I expect to be for one moment off
my feet, what with Ontry ladys who don't wish to be done
till they're just getting into their carriages — though for that I
don't blame them, miss, and nobody could. I'm afraid you'll
find these lappits very wearing on the nerves before the day
is out. But I'll just pin them up so, miss — and of course
you must do as best pleases you, but my adoice would be,
don't let them down for anyhodj, miss, till you start.' But
I was not sorry the hairdresser came so early. It would
have been much more wearing on the nerves to have waited
for her.

Perhaps you will find it difficult to understand the interest
with which I watched my own development into a lady dressed
for Court. Even the most familiar details of costume seemed to
acquire a new meaning and importance, while those of special
relevance had the charm that might arise from the mingling of
a very august occasion with a fancy-dress ball. When I was
quite ready, it seemed to me that I was a different person, very
pretty, very tall, with a tendency to look backward over my
shoulder, wearing, as well as a beautiful sweeping gown, a lofty
and complete set of monarchical prejudices, which I thought be-
coming in masquerade. I was too much fascinated with my out-
ward self. I could have wished, for an instant, that the Declara-
tion of Independence was hanging about somewhere framed.

Then the advent of the big square wooden box from the
florist's, and the gracious wonder of white roses and grasses

294 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

inside, with little buds dropping and caught in its trailing
ribbons — there is a great deal of the essence of a Royal function
in a Drawing-Koom bouquet. And then Lady Torquilin, with
a new graciousness and dignity, quite a long way off it' 1 had not
been conscious of sharing her state for the time. Lady Torquilin s
appearance gave me more- ideas about my own than the pier-
glass did. ' Dear me ! ' I thought, with a certain rapture, ' do
I really look anything like fhrd ? '

We went down in the lift one at a time, with Charlotte as
train-bearer, and the other maids furtively admiring from the end
of the hall. Almost everybody in Cadogan Mansions seemed
to be going out at about the same time, and a small crowd had
gathered on each side of the strip of carpet, that led from the
door to the carriage. It was Lady Mafferton's carriage, lent for
the occasion, and the footman and coachman were as impressive
as powder and buff and brass buttons would make them. In
addition, they wore remarkable floral designs about the size and
shape of a cabbage-leaf upon their breasts immediately under
their chins. That was another thing that could not have been
done with dignity in America.

The weather looked threatening as we drove off, precisely
at twelve o'clock, and presently it began to rain with great
industry and determination. The drops came streaming down
outside the carriage windows ; fewer people as we passed leaned
out of hansoms to look at us. Inside the Mafierton carriage we
were absurdly secure from the weather ; we surveyed our trains,
piled up on the opposite seat, with complacency ; we took no
thought even for the curl of our feathers. We counted, as we
drove past them to take our place, and there were forty carriages
in line ahead of us. Then we stopped behind the last, in the
middle of a wide road, heavily bordered under the trees with

WE WENT DOWN IN THE LIFT, ONE AT A TIME, WITH CIIARLOTTF! AH TBAIN-BEABJiR.'

2q6 an AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

damp people and dripping umbrellas — there for the spectacle.
All kinds of people and all kinds of umbrellas, I noticed with
interest — ladies and gentlemen, and little seamstresses, and
loafers and ragamuffins, and apple-women, and a large propor-
tion of your respectable lower middle-class. We sat in state
amongst them in the rain, being observed, and liking it. I heard
my roses approved, and the nape of my neck, and Lady Tor-
quilin's diamonds. I also heard it made very unpleasant for
an elderly young lady in the carriage in front of ours, whose
appearance was not approved by a pair of candid newsboys.
The policemen kept the people off, however ; they could only
approach outside a certain limit, and there they stood, or walked
up and down, huddled together in the rain, and complaining of
the clouded carriage windows. I think there came to me then,
sitting in the carriage in the warmth and pride and fragrance
and luxuriance of it all, one supreme moment of experience,
when I bent my head over my roses and looked out into the
rain — one throb of exulting pleasure that seemed to hold the
whole meaning of the thing I was doing, and to make its covet-
able nature plain. I find my thoughts centre, looking back,
upon that one moment.

It was three o'clock before we moved again. In the hours
that came between we had nothing to do but smell our flowers,
discuss the people who drove past to take places farther down
the line, congratulate ourselves upon being forty-first, and eat
tiny sandwiches done up in tissue paper, with serious regard for
the crumbs ; yet the time did not seem at all long. Mr. Oddie
Pratte, who was to escort us through the palace and home again,
made an incident, dashing up in a hansom on his way to the
club to dress, but that was all. And once Lady Torquilin had
the footman down to tell him and his brother- functionary under

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 297

the big umbrella to put on their rubber coats. 'Thank you,
my lady ! ' said the footman, and went back to the box ; but
neither of them took advantage of the permission. They were
going to Court too, and knew what was seemly. And the
steamy crowd stayed on till the last.

2q8

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXIX

RESENTLY, when we were
not in the least expecting
it, there came a little sudden
jolt that made us look at
each other precipitatel}-.
Lady Torquilin was quite as
nervous as I at this point.
' What has become of
Oddie ? ' she exclaimed, and
descried a red coat in a cab
rolling up beside us with in-
tense relief. As we passed
through the Palace gates
the cab dit^appeared, and chaos
came again. ' Naughty boy ! '
said Lady Torquilin, in bitterness of
spirit. ' Why, in the name of for-
tune, could u't he have come with us

the

carriage

? Men have no

nerves, my dear, none whatever ; and

they can't understand our having

them ! ' But at that moment we

alighted, in a maze of directions, upon the wide, red-cai-peted

steps, and whisked as rapidly as possible through great corridors

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

299

' AND CHAOS CAME AGAIN.

300 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

with knots of gentlemen in uniform in them to the cloak-room.
' Hurry, child ! ' whispered Lady Torquilin, handing our wraps
to the white-capped maid. ' Don't let these people get ahead of
us, and keep close to me ! ' — and 1 observed the same spasmodic
haste in everybody else. With our trains over our arms we
fled after the others, as rapidly as decorum would permit, through
spacious halls and rooms that lapse into a red confusion in my
recollection, leaving one of my presentation cards somewhere on
the way, and reaching the limit of permitted progress at last
with a strong sense of security and comfort. We found it in a
large pillared room full of regalarly-curving lines of chairs,
occupied by the ladies of the forty carriages that were before us.
Every head wore its three white feathers and its tulle extension,
and the aggregation of plumes and lappets and gentle movements
made one in the rear think of a flock of tame pigeons nodding
and pecking — it was very ' quaint,' as Lady Torquilin said when
I pointed it out. The dresses of these ladies immediately be-
came a source of the liveliest interest to us, as ours were appa-
rently to those who sat near us. In fact, I had never seen such
undisguised curiosity of a polite kind before. But then I do
not know that I had ever been in the same room with so many
jewels, and brocades, and rare orchids, and drooping feathers, and
patrician features before, so perhaps this is not surprising. A
few gentlemen were standing about the room, holding fans and
bouquets, leaning over the backs of the ladies' chairs, and looking
rather distraught, in very becoming costumes of black velvet
and silk stockings and shoe-buckles, and officers in uniform were
scattered through the room, looking as if they felt rather more
important than the men in black ; as I dare say they did, repre-
senting that most glorious and impressive British institution, the
Army, while the others were only private gentlemen, their own

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 301

property, and not connected with her Majesty in any personal
way whatever.

' Here you are/ said somebody close behind us. ' How d'ye
do, Auntie? How d'ye do. Miss Wick? 'Pon my word, I'm
awfully sorry I missed you before; but you're all right, aren't you ?
The brute of a policeman at the gates wouldn't pass a hansom.'

It was Mr. Oddie Pratte, of course, looking particularly
handsome in his red-and-plaid uniform, holding his helmet in
front of him in the way that people acquire in the Army, and
pleased, as usual, with the world at large.

' Then may I ask how you came here, sir ? ' said Lady
Torquilin, making a pretence of severity.

' Private entree ! ' responded Mr. Pratte, with an assumption
of grandeur. ' Fellow drove me up as a matter of course — no
apologies ! They suspected I was somebody, I guess, coming
that way, and I gave the man his exact fare, to deepen the im-
pression. Walked in. Nobody said anything ! It's what you
call a game o' bluff. Auntie dear ! '

' A piece of downright impertinence ! ' said Lady Torquilin?
pleasantly. *It was your red coat, boy. Now, what do you
think of our gowns ? '

Mr. Pratte told us what he thought of them with great
amiability and candour. I had seen quite enough of him since
the day at Aldershot to permit and enjoy his opinion, which even
its frequent use of ' chic ' and ' rico ' did not make in any way
irreverent. This young gentleman was a connoisseur in gowns ;
he understood them very well, and we were both pleased that
he liked ours. As we criticised and chaffed and chatted a door
opened at the farther end of the room, and all the ladies rose
precipitately and swept forward.

It was like a great shimmering wave, radiant in colour,

302 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

breaking in a hundred places into the foam of those dimpling
feathers and streaming lappets, and it rushed with unanimity to
the open door, stopping there, chafing, on this side of a silk rope
and a Gentleman of the Court. We hurried on with the wave
— Lady Torquilin and Mr. Oddie Pratte and I — and presently
we were inextricably massed about half-way from its despairing
outer edge, in an encounter of elbows which was only a little less
than furious. Everybody gathered her train over her left arm — it
made one think of the ladies of Nepaul, who wear theirs in front,
it is said — and clung with one hand to her prodigious bouquet,
protecting her pendent head-dress with the other. ' For pity's
sake, child, take care of your lappets,' exclaimed Lady Torquilin.
' Look at that ! ' I looked at ' that ' ; it was a ragged fragment
of tulle about a quarter of a yard long, dependent from the
graceful head of a young lady immediately in front of us. She
did not know of her misfortune, poor thing, but she had a
vague and undetermined sense of woe, and she turned to us
with speaking eyes. ' I've lost mamma,' she said, unhappily.
' Where is mamma ? I must go to mamma.' And she was not
such a very young lady either. But Lady Torquilin, in her kind-
ness of heart, said, ' So you shall, my dear, so you shall ! ' and
Mr. Pratte took his aunt's bouquet and mine, and held them,
one in each hand, above the heads of the mob of fine-ladyhood,
rather enjoying the situation, I think, so that we could crowd
together and allow the young lady who wanted her mamma to
go and find her. Mr. Oddie Pratte took excellent care of the
bouquets, holding them aloft in that manner, and looked so
gallantly handsome doing it that other gentlemen immediately
followed his example, and turned themselves into flowery can-
delabra, with gi-eat effect upon the brilliancy of the scene.

A sudden movement among the ladies nearest the silken

AN AMERICAN GIRL.. IN lONDON 303

barrier — a sudden concentration of energy that came with the
knowledge that there was progress to be made, progress to
Royalty! A quick, heaving rush through and beyond into
another apartment full of emptiness and marble pillars, and we
were once more at a standstill, having conquered a few places —
brought to a masterly inactivity by another silken cord and
another Gentleman of the Court, polite but firm. In the room
beyond we could see certain figures moving about at their ease,
with no crush and no struggle — the ladies and gentlemen of the
Private Entree. With what lofty superiority we invested them !
They seemed, for the time, to belong to some other planet, where
Royal beings grew and smiled at every street-corner, and to be, on
the other side of that silken barrier, an immeasurable distance off".
It was a distinct shock to hear an elderly lady beside us, done up
mainly in amethysts, recognise a cousin among them. It seemed
to be self-evident that she had no right to have a cousin there.

' I'll see you through the barrier,' said Mr. Oddie Pratte,
' and then I'll have to leave you. I'll bolt round the other way,
and be waiting for you at the off-door, Auntie. I'd come through,
only Her Maj. does hate it so. Not at all nice of her, I call it,
but she can't bear the most charming of us about on these occa-
sions. We're not good enough.' A large-boned lady in fronts
red velvet and cream — with a diminutive major in attendance,
turned to him at this, and said with unction, ' I am sure, Edwin,
that is not the case. I have it on excellent authority that the
Queen is jpleasedj when gentlemen come through. Remember,
Edwin, I will not face it alone.'

' I think you will do very well, my dear ! ' Edwin responded.
' Brace up ! 'Pon my word, I don't think I ought to go. I'll
join you at '

* If you desert me, Edwin, I shall die ! ' said the bony lady,

304 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

in a strong undertone ; and at that moment the crowd broke
again. Oddie slipped away, and we went on exultantly two
places, for the major had basely and swiftly followed Mr. Pratte,
and his timid spouse, in a last clutching expostulation, had fallen
hopelessly to the rear.

About twenty of us, this time, were let in at once. The last
of the preceding twenty were slowly and singly pacing after one
another's trains round two sides of this third big room towards a
door at the farther corner. There was a most impressive silence.
As we got into file I felt that the supreme moment was at hand,
and it was not a comfortable feeling. Lady Torquilin, in front
of me, put a question to a gentleman in a uniform she ought to
have been afraid of — only that nothing ever terrified Lady Tor-
quilin, which made it less comfortable still. * Oh, Lord Maffer-
ton,' said she — I hadn't recognised him in my nervousness and
his gold lace — ^ How many curtseys are there to make ? '

' Nine, dear lady,' replied this peer, with evident enjoyment.
* It's the most brilliant Drawing-Koom of the season. Every
Royalty who could possibly attend is here. Nine, at the
least ! '

Lady Torquilin's reply utterly terrified me. It was confi-
dential, and delivered in an undertone, but it was full of severe
meaning. ' I'm full of rheumatism,' said she, ' and I shan't
do it.'

The question as to what Lady Torquilin would do, if not
what was required of her, rose vividly before me, and kept me
company at every step of that interminable round. * Am I all
right ? ' she whispered over her shoulder from the other end of
that trailing length of pansy-coloured velvet. ' Perfectly/ I
said. But there was nobody to tell m& that I was all right — I
might have been a thing of shreds and patches. Somebody's

IT WAS MY TUBN

3o6 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

roses had dropped ; I was walking on pink petals. What a
pity ! And I had forgotten to take off my glove ; would it ever
come unbuttoned ? How deliberately we were nearing that door
at the farther end ! And how could I possibly have supposed
that my heart would beat like this ! It was all very well to
allow one's self a little excitement in preparation ; but when it
came to the actual event I reminded myself that I had not had
the slightest intention of being nervous. I called all my demo-
cratic principles to my assistance — none of them would come.
' Remember, Mamie Wick,' said I to myself, * you don't believe
in queens.' But at that moment I saw three Gentlemen of the
Household bending over, and stretching out Lady Torquilin's
train into an illimitable expanse. I looked beyond, and there,
in the midst of all her dazzling Court, stood Queen Victoria.
And Lady Torquilin was bending over her hand ! And in
another moment it would be — it was my turn ! I felt the
touches on my own train, I heard somebody call a name I had
a vague familiarity with — * Miss Mamie Wick.' I was launched
at last towards that little black figure of Royalty with the Blue
Ribbon crossing her breast and the Koh-i-nor sparkling there !
Didu^t you believe in queens. Miss Mamie Wick, at that
moment? I'm very much afraid you did.

And all that I remember after was going down very
unsteadily before her, and just daring the lightest touch of my
lips upon the gracious little hand she laid on mine. And then
not getting nearly time enough to make all of those nine curtseys
to the beautiful sparkling people that stood at the Queen's left
hand, before two more Gentlemen of the Court gathered up my
draperies from behind my feet and threw them mercifully over
my arm for me. And one awful moment when I couldn't quite
tell whether I had backed out of all the Royal presences or not,

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 307

made up my mind that I had, then unmade it, and in agony of
spirit turned and hacked again !

It was over at last. I had kissed the hand of the Queen of
Great Britain and Ireland, and — there's no use in trying to
believe anything to the contraiy — I was proud of it. Lady
.Torquilin and I regarded each other in the next room with pale
and breathless congratulation, and then turned with one accord
to Oddie Pratte.

' On the whole,' said that young gentleman, blandly, ' you
did rae credit ! '

3oS AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

XXX

T AM writing this last chapter in the top berth of a saloon
^ cabin on board the Cunard s.s. ' Etruria,' which left Liver-
pool June 25, and is now three days out. From which it will
be seen that I am going home.

Nothing has happened there, you will be glad to hear,
perhaps. Poppa and momma, and all the dear ones of Mrs.
Portheris's Christmas card, are quite in their usual state of
health. The elections are not on at present, so there is no
family depression in connection with poppa's political future. I
am not running away from the English climate either, which
had begun, shortly before I left, to be rather agreeable. I have
been obliged to leave England on account of a Misunder-
standing.

In order that you should quite see that nobody was parti-
cularly to blame, I am afraid I shall have to be very explicit,
which is in a way disagreeable. But Lady Torquilin said the
day I came away that it would have been better if I had been
explicit sooner, and I shall certainly never postpone the duty
again. So that, although I should much prefer to let my
English experiences close happily and gloriously with going to
Court, I feel compelled to add here, in the contracted space at
my disposal, the true story of how I went to dine with Mr.
Charles Mafferton's father and mother and brother and sisters
in Hertford Street, Mayfair.

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 309

It occurred almost as soon as the family returned from the
South of France, where they had been all spring, you remember,
from considerations affecting the health of the eldest Miss
Mafferton — with whom I had kept up, from time to time, a very
pleasant correspondence. One day, about three weeks after the
Drawing-Room, when Lady Torquilin and I could scarcely ever
rely upon an afternoon at home, we came in to find all the
Mafferton cards again in. There was a note, too, in which Mrs.
Mafferton begged Lady Torquilin to waive ceremony and bring
me to dine with them the following evening. ' You can guess,'
said Mrs. Mafferton, ' how anxious we must be to see her.' There
was a postscript to the invitation, which said that although
Charlie, as we probably knew, was unfortunately out of town
for a day or two, Mrs Mafferton hoped he would be back in the
course of the evening.

' Well, my dear,' said Lady Torquilin, ' it's easily seen that I
can't go, with those Watkins people coming here. But you
shall — I'll let you off the Watkinses. It isn't really fair to
the Maffertons to keep them waiting any longer. I'll write at
once and say so. Of course,' Lady Torquilin went on, * under
ordinary circumstances I shouldn't think of letting you go out
to dinner alone, but in this case — there is sure to be only the
family, you know — I don't think it matters/

So Lady Torquilin wrote, and when the time came lent me
Charlotte to go with me in a hansom to Hertford Street, May-
fair. ^ Be sure you bring me back a full and particular account
of how they all behave, child,' said she, as she looked me over
after my toilette was made ; * I shall be interested to hear.'

A massive butler let me into the usual narrow, high-ceiled
Mayfair hall, richly lighted and luxurious ; the usual convenient
maid in a white cap appeared at the first landing to show the way

3IO AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

to the proper room for my wraps. After Lady Torquilin's ex-
pression of interest in how they behaved, I had been wondering
whether the Maffertons had any idiosyncrasies, and I did not
waste any unnecessary time in final touches before going down
to see. I like people with idiosyncrasies, and lately I had been
growing accustomed to those of the English nation ; as a whole
they no longer struck me forcibly. I quite anticipated some
fresh ones, and the opportunity of observing them closely.

The drawing-room seemed, as I went in, to be full of Maffer-
tons. There were more Maffertons than china plates on the
wall, than patterns on the carpet. And yet there were only the
four young ladies and their mother and father. The effect was
produced, I think, by the great similarity between the Misses
Mafferton. Not in actual face or figure ; there were quite per-
ceptible differences there. The likeness lay in an indefinable
shade of manner and behaviour, in the subdued and unobtrusive
way in which they all got up and looked at me and at their
mamma, waiting until it should be entirely proper for them to
come forward. They were dressed a good deal alike, in low tones
of silk, high necked, rather wrinkling at the shoulders, and
finished with lace frills at the throat and wrists, and they all
wore their hair parted in the middle, brushed smoothly back
over their ears, and braided neatly across and across behind. I
have never been sure about their ages — they might have been
anything from twenty-five to forty ; but Isabella, whom they
spoke of as the youngest, seemed to me to be the most serious
and elderly of all.

Mrs. Mafferton was a very stout old lady, with what is called
a fine face. She wore a good many old-fashioned rings, and a
wide lace collar over her expansive black silk, and as she came
heavily forward to meet me she held out both her hands, and

312 AN AMERICAN GJRL IN LONDON

beamed upon me — not an impulsive beam, however, ratlier a
beam with an element of caution in it.

* You are very welcome, Miss Wick. Indeed, we have been
looking forward to this. I think you ought to let me give you
a kiss ! '

Of course I did let Mrs. Mafferton give me a kiss — it was
impossible to refuse. But I thought myself singularly favoured ;
it did not seem at all in accordance with the character of the
family to fall upon the neck of a stranger and embrace her by
way of welcoming her to dinner. I was still further of that
opinion when each of the Misses Mafferton followed the example
of their mamma, and saluted me tenderly on the same cheek.
But I immediately put it down to be an idiosyncrasy. ' We
are so glad to see you at last,' said the eldest. ' Yes, indeed ! '
said the second. 'We began to think we never should,' said
the third. ' We really did ! ' said the fourth.

' Papa,' said Mrs. Mafferton, ' this is Miss Wick, of whom
we have all heard so much.' She spoke very close to the ear of
an old gentleman in an arm-chair screened from the fire, with
one leg stretched out on a rest ; but he did not understand, and
she had to say it over again : ' Miss Wick, of whom we have all
heard so much. Poor dear ! he does not hear very well,' Mrs.
Mafferton added to me. * You must use the speaking-trumpet,
I fear, Miss Wick.' * Well,' said old Mr. Mafferton, after
shaking hands with me and apologising for not rising, ' if this
is Miss Wick, I don't see why I shouldn't have a kiss too.' At
which Mrs. Mafferton and all the young ladies laughed and pro-
tested, * Oh, fie, papa ! ' For my part I began to think this
idiosyncrasy singularly common to the family.

Then the eldest ISliss Mafferton put one end of a long black
speaking-trumpet into my hand, aud Mr. Mafferton, seeing her

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 313

do this, applied the other to his ear. I had nothing whatever
to say, but, overcome with the fear of seeming rude, I was raising
it to my lips and thinking hard when I felt two anxious hands
upon my arm. ' Do excuse us ! ' exclaimed a Miss MafFerton,
' but if you wouldn't mind holding it just a little farther from
your lips, please ! We are obliged to tell everybody. Otherwise
the voice makes quite a distressing noise in his poor ears.' At
which every semblance of an idea left me instantly. Yet I must
say something — Mr. Mafferton was waiting at the other end of
the tube. This was the imbecility I gave expression to. * I
came here in a cab ! ' I said. It was impossible to think of
anything else.

That was not a very propitious beginping; and Mr. Mafferton's
further apology for not being able to take me down to dinner,
on the ground that he had to be takea down by the butler
himself, did not help matters in the very least. At dinner
I sat upon Mr. Mafferton's right, with the coiling length
of the speaking-trumpet between us. The brother came in
just before we went down — a thin young man with a ragged
beard, a curate. Of course, a curate beiug there, we began with
a blessing.

Then Mrs. Mafferton said. * I hope you won't mind our not
having asked any one else, Miss Wick. We were selfish enough
to want you, this first evening, all to ourselves.'

It was certainly the Mafferton idiosyncrasy to be extrava-
gantly kind. I returned that nothing could have been more
delightful for me.

' Except that we think that dear naughty Lady Torquilin
should have come too ! ' said the youngest Miss Mafferton. It
began to seem to me that none of these young ladies considered
themselves entitled to au opinion in the first person singular.

314 A.V AMERTCAN CTRL IN LONDON

An idea appeared to be, as it were, a family product. ^ She
was very sorry,' I said.

* And so, I am sure, are we,' remarked Mrs. MafFerton, gra-
ciously, from the other end of the table. ' It was through dear
Lady Torquilin, I believe, that you first met our son, Miss
Wick?'

I began to feel profoundly uncomfortable — I scarcely knew
exactly why. It became apparent to me that there was something
in the domestic atmosphere with which I was out of sympathy.
I thought the four Miss Maffertons looked at me with too much
interest, and I believed that the curate was purposely distracting
himself with his soup. I corroborated what Mrs. Mafferton had
said rather awkwardly, and caught one Miss Mafferton looking
at another in a way that expressed distinct sympathy for me.

I was quite relieved when Mrs. Mafferton changed the
subject by saying, ' So you are an American, Miss Wick ? ' and
I was able to tell her something about Chicago and our methods
of railway travelling. Mrs. Mafferton was very pleasant about
Americans ; she said she always found them nice, kind-hearted
people. The curate said, thoughtfully, crumbling his bread, that
we had a vast country over there.

' Francis ! ' exclaimed the Miss Mafferton who sat next
to him, playfully abstracting the crumbs, ' you know that's
naughty of you ! I'm afraid you've come to a very nervous
family. Miss Wick.

I felt myself blushing abominably. The situation all at
once defined itself and became terrible. How could I tell the
Maffertons, assembled there around their dinner-table, that I
was not coming to their family !

* Burgundy, miss ? '

How could I do anything but sip my claret with immoderate

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 315

EVEN THEM, I REMEMBEli, HE LOOKED A SEKIOUS PEKSON.'

3i6 A A AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

absorption, and say that nervous disorders did sometimes run in
families, or something equally imbecile!

' But Charlie's nerves are as strong as possible ! ' said
another Miss Mafferton, reproachfully, to her sister.

We had other general conversation, and I spoke into ]\Ir.
Mafferton's trumpet several times with a certain amount of
coherence ; but I remember only the points which struck me as
of special interest at the time. Among them was the proposal
that, if I were willing, Mrs. Mafferton should drive me on
Tuesday week — that would be to-day — to see an invalid married
sister living in Hampstead who was most anxious to welcome
me. How could I say I was not willing !

Then, after dinner, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Mafferton took
me aside ' for a little chat,' and told me what a good son Charles
had always been, and showed me several photographs of him at
earlier stages, from the time he wore a sash and pinafore. Even
then, I remember, he looked a serious person.

After which I had another little chat with two of the Misses
^K.fferton together, who explained what a devoted brother they
had always had in Charlie. ' We are so glad you've been kind
to him," they said, impulsively. ' Of course we haven't seen him
yet since our return, but his letters have told us ihai much.' I
tried in vain to rack my brain for occasions on which I had been
kind to Mr. Charles Mafferton, and longed for an attack of faiut-
ness or a severe headache.

' Indeed,' I said, * it was always your brother who was kind —
to Lady Torquilin and to me.' At which the young ladies
smiled consciously, and said something about iliai being perfectly
natural. Then, just as I was wondering whether I absolutely
must wait for Charlotte to arrive in a cab to take me home as
Lady Torquilin had arranged, and as the third Miss Mafferton

' THE MISSES MAFFERTON, WHO ACCOMPANIEr ME, TURNED QUITE PALE.'

31 8 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

was telling me how noble but how uninteresting it was of
Francis to take up extreme Ritualistic views and vow himself to
celibacy, the door-bell rang.

' There's Charlie now ! ' exclaimed the Misses Mafferton all
together.

' I must really go ! ' I said precipitately. 'I — I promised
Lady Torquilin to be home early ' — noting with despair by the
gold clock under glass on the mantel that it was only a quarter
to ten — * and the Ameiican mail goes out to-morrow — at least, I
iJiirik it does — and — and (rooc^-night, Mrs. Mafferton ! Good-
niglit^ Mr. Mafferton ! ' I said it very rapidly, and although they
were all kind enough to meet my departure with protest, I
think it was evident to them that for some reason or other I
really must go. The young ladies exchanged glances of under-
standing. I think their idea was that I dreaded the embarrass-
ment of meeting Mr. Charles Mafferton before his family. Two
of them came upstairs with me to get my wraps, and assured
me in various indirect ways that they quite understood — it was
awkward.

Coming down, we met Mr. Charles Mafferton at the door of
the drawing-room. The Misses Mafferton, who accompanied me,
turned quite pale when they heard me assure their brother that
there was not the slightest necessity that he should accompany
me home. I could not persuade him of this, however, and we
drove away together.

I am afraid I cannot possibly report the conversation that
took place between Mr. Mafferton and myself in the cab. Look-
ing back upon it, I find it difficult to understand clearly, as I
dare say he does if he ever thinks about it. After I had made
him see quite plainly that it was utterly, absolutely impossible,
which was not easy, he left me to infer that I had been incon-

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 319

sistent, though I am sure I could make no self-accusation which
would be more baseless. Privately, I thought the inconsistency
was his, and that it was of the most glaring description. 1
am of opinion, with all due respect to your English customs,
that if Mr. Mafferton desired to marry me, he should have taken
me, to some extent, into his confidence about it. He should
not have made Lady Torquilin the sole repository of the idea.
A single bunch of roses, or basket of fruit, or box of candy
addressed to me Specially, would have been enough to give my
thoughts a proper direction in the matter. Then I would have
known what to do. But I always seemed to make an unavoid-
able second in Mr. Mafferton's attentions, and accepted my share
of them generally with an inward compunction. And I may say,
without any malice at all, that to guess of one's own accord at
a developing sentiment within the breast of Mr. Mafferton would
be an unlikely thing to occupy the liveliest imagination.

Perhaps Mr. Mafferton did not know how his family had
intended to behave to me. At all events, he offered no apology
for their conduct. I may say that the only thing of any con-
sequence that resulted from our drive was the resolution which
I am carrying out on board the s.s. ' Etruria ' to-day.

The ladies' steward of the ' Etruria,' a little fellow with large
blue eyes and spectacles and a drooping moustache, is very polite
and attentive. His devotion, after Mr. Mafferton's, seems the
embodiment of romance. I shall hesitate about tipping him.
He has just brought me some inspiring beef-tea, which accounts
for those asterisks.

The worst of it was Lady Torquilin's scolding next morning
— not that she said anything unkind, but because it gave me the
idea that 1 had treated her badly too. I should be so sorry to

320

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON

think that 1 had treated Lady Torquilin badly. She Feeined to
think that I should have told her in the very beginning that I

was engaged to Mr. Arthur
Greenleaf Page, of the Yale
University Staff. She seemed
to think that I should have
told everybody. I don't see
why, especially as we are not
to be married until Christmas,
and one never can tell what
may happen. Young ladies
do not speak of these things
quite so much in America as
you do in England, I thiuk.
They are not so openly known
and discussed. I must apolo-
gise to myself for bringing Mr.
Page in even at this stage,
but it seemed to be unavoid-
able.

I don't know at all, by the
way, what Arthur will say to
this last of my
English experi-
ences. He may
not consider it as
' formative ' as
he hoped the
others would be.
There is only
TH£ LADIES' STEWARD.- ono thing that

AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON 321

makes the thought endurable for an instant — it would have been
nice to be related to the Stacys.

Just before sailing the purser supplied me with dear consola-
tion in the shape of a letter from Miss Peter Corke. It was a
' characteristic ' letter, as we say when we want to say a thing
easily— bewailing, advising, sternly questioning, comically repro-
bating, a little sad and deprecating by accident, then rallying to
herself again with all sorts of funny reproaches. ' I meant to
have done so much, and I've done so little ! ' was the burden of
it, recurring often — ' I meant to have done so much, and I've
done so little ! ' Dear Peter ! She can't possibly know how
much she did do, though I'm taking my unformed mind back to
a comparatively immature civilisation, and shall probably con-
tinue to attend a church where they use spring-edged cushions
and incandescent burners. Peter's England will always be the
true England to me. I shall be able to realise it again easily
with some photographs and Hare's ' Walks in London,' though
I am afraid I have got all her delightful old moss-grown facts
and figures mixed up so that I couldn't write about them over
again without assistance as intelligently as before. And Peter
says she doesn't mind going on in my second volume, if only I
won't print it ; which is vei-y good of her when one thinks that
the second volume will be American, and never written at
all, but only lived, very quietly, under the maples at Yale. I
hope she may be found in the last chnpter of that one too.
Dear Peter I

D. APPLETON & CO.^S PUBLICATIONS.

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SOCIAL DEPARTURE: How Orthodocia and
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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

A CHARMING AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

'HE LIFE OF AN ARTIST. By Jules Breton.
With Portrait. Translated by Mrs. Mary J. Serrano.
i2mo. Bound in cloth, $1.50.

' . . , One of those books the success of which is assured from the first because
jt Its perfect naturalness. . . . The reader of Jules Breton's memoir . . . will close
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and the translator has very well reproduced his charms of style, his beautiful simplicity,
and that perfume of the love of Nature which breathes through the book and ennobles
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poet's glow and the philosopher's peace." — New York Sun.

" One understands modem France the better for this autobiography of her highly
gifted son." — Boston Pilot.

"Jules Breton, by writing his autobiography, has conferred a lasting favor on the
lovers of this class of literature." — Detroit Journal.

IDOW GUTHRIE. A Novel. By Richard Mal-
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Bound in cloth, $1.50.

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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

''HE STORY OF MY HOUSE. By George H.
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Even a more delightful book than " The Garden's Story." Though
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freshness of country life and the beauty of external nature.

HE GARDEN'S STORY; or, Pleasures and
Trials of an Amateur Gardener By George H. Ellw anger.
With Head and Tail Pieces by Rhead. i2mo. Cloth, extra,

$1.50.

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'J^HE FOLK-LORE OF PLANTS. By t. F. This-
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" A handsome and deeply interesting volume. ... In all respects the book is ex-
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. . To all who seek an introduction to one of the most attractive branches of folk-
lore, this delightful volume may be warmly commended "—A^tf^^.y and Queries.

LOWERS AND THEIR PEDIGREES. By
Grant Allen, author of " Vignettes of Nature," etc. Illus-
trated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50.

"' No writer treats scientific subjects with so much ease and charm of style as Mr.
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iSTew York : D. APPLETON & CO., i, 3, & 5 Bond Street.

D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.

OUTINGS AT ODD TIMES. By Charles C. Abbott,
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Dr. Abbott's delightful studies in Natural History have become
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NATURALIST' S RAMBLES ABOUT HOME.
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the open air all the time on the alert for some new revelation of instinct, or feeling,
or character on the part of his neighbor creatures. Most that he sees and hears he
reports agreeably to us, as it was no doubt delightful to himself Books like this,
which are free from all the technicalities of science, but yet lack little that has scien-
ifi value, are well suited to tlie reading of the young. 1 heir atmosphere is a healthy
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P\^y^ OUT OF DOORS. By Charles C. Abbott.
*-^ author of "A Naturalist's Rambles about Home." i2mo.
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" * Days out of Doors ' is a series of sketches of animal life by Charles C. Abbott,
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and fishes and foxy sparrows, and so on appropriately, instructively, and divertingly
through the whole twelve." — The New York Sun.

HE PLAYTIME NATURALIST. By Dr. j. E
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trations. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50.

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