"Oh, at his office?" said the visitors. "And when will he be at home?"
"Well, sah, when he goes out dis way in de mo'ning, he ain't

liable to come home all day."
This was discouraging; but the address of Mr. Westgate's

office was freely imparted by the intelligent black
and was taken down by Percy Beaumont in his pocketbook.

The two gentlemen then returned, languidly, to their hotel,
and sent for a hackney coach, and in this commodious vehicle

they rolled comfortablydowntown. They measured the whole
length of Broadway again and found it a path of fire; and then,

deflecting to the left, they were deposited by their conductor
before a fresh, light, ornamentalstructure, ten stories high,

in a street crowded with keen-faced, light-limbed young men,
who were running about very quickly and stopping each other eagerly

at corners and in doorways. Passing into this brilliant building,
they were introduced by one of the keen-faced young men--

he was a charming fellow, in wonderful cream-colored garments
and a hat with a blue ribbon, who had evidently perceived them

to be aliens and helpless--to a very snug hydraulic elevator,
in which they took their place with many other persons,

and which, shooting upward in its vertical socket,
presently projected them into the seventh horizontal compartment

of the edifice. Here, after brief delay, they found themselves
face to face with the friend of their friend in London.

His office was composed of several different rooms, and they
waited very silently in one of them after they had sent in

their letter and their cards. The letter was not one which it
would take Mr. Westgate very long to read, but he came out

to speak to them more instantly than they could have expected;
he had evidently jumped up from his work. He was a tall,

lean personage and was dressed all in fresh white linen;
he had a thin, sharp, familiar face, with an expression that was

at one and the same time sociable and businesslike, a quick,
intelligent eye, and a large brown mustache, which concealed

his mouth and made his chin, beneath it, look small.
Lord Lambeth thought he looked tremendously clever.

"How do you do, Lord Lambeth--how do you do, sir?" he said,
holding the open letter in his hand. "I'm very glad to see you;

I hope you're very well. You had better come in here; I think
it's cooler," and he led the way into another room, where there were

law books and papers, and windows wide open beneath striped awning.
Just opposite one of the windows, on a line with his eyes,

Lord Lambeth observed the weathervane of a church steeple.
The uproar of the street sounded infinitely far below,

and Lord Lambeth felt very high in the air. "I say it's cooler,"
pursued their host, "but everything is relative.

How do you stand the heat?"
"I can't say we like it," said Lord Lambeth; "but Beaumont likes

it better than I."
"Well, it won't last," Mr. Westgate very cheerfully declared;

"nothing unpleasant lasts over here. It was very hot when Captain
Littledale was here; he did nothing but drink sherry cobblers.

He expressed some doubt in his letter whether I will remember him--
as if I didn't remember making six sherry cobblers for him one day

in about twenty minutes. I hope you left him well, two years having
elapsed since then."

"Oh, yes, he's all right," said Lord Lambeth.
"I am always very glad to see your countrymen," Mr. Westgate pursued.

"I thought it would be time some of you should be coming along.
A friend of mine was saying to me only a day or two ago, 'It's time

for the watermelons and the Englishmen."
"The Englishmen and the watermelons just now are about the same thing,"

Percy Beaumont observed, wiping his dripping forehead.
"Ah, well, we'll put you on ice, as we do the melons.

You must go down to Newport."
"We'll go anywhere," said Lord Lambeth.

"Yes, you want to go to Newport; that's what you want to do,"
Mr. Westgate affirmed. "But let's see--when did you get here?"

"Only yesterday," said Percy Beaumont.
"Ah, yes, by the Russia. Where are you staying?"

"At the Hanover, I think they call it."
"Pretty comfortable?" inquired Mr. Westgate.

"It seems a capital place, but I can't say we like the gnats,"
said Lord Lambeth.

Mr. Westgate stared and laughed. "Oh, no, of course you don't
like the gnats. We shall expect you to like a good many things

over here, but we shan't insist upon your liking the gnats;
though certainly you'll admit that, as gnats, they are fine, eh?

But you oughtn't to remain in the city."
"So we think," said Lord Lambeth. "If you would kindly suggest something--"

"Suggest something, my dear sir?" and Mr. Westgate looked at him,
narrowing his eyelids. "Open your mouth and shut your eyes!

Leave it to me, and I'll put you through. It's a matter of national
pride with me that all Englishmen should have a good time;

and as I have had considerable practice, I have learned to minister
to their wants. I find they generally want the right thing.

So just please to consider yourselves my property; and if anyone
should try to appropriate you, please to say, 'Hands off;

too late for the market.' But let's see," continued the American,
in his slow, humorous voice, with a distinctness of utterance

which appeared to his visitors to be part of a humorous intention--
a strangelyleisurely, speculative voice for a man evidently

so busy and, as they felt, so professional--"let's see;
are you going to make something of a stay, Lord Lambeth?"

"Oh, dear, no," said the young Englishman; "my cousin was coming
over on some business, so I just came across, at an hour's notice,

for the lark."
"Is it your first visit to the United States?"

"Oh, dear, yes."
"I was obliged to come on some business," said Percy Beaumont,

"and I brought Lambeth along."
"And YOU have been here before, sir?"

"Never--never."
"I thought, from your referring to business--" said Mr. Westgate.

"Oh, you see I'm by way of being a barrister," Percy Beaumont answered.
"I know some people that think of bringing a suit against one of your

railways, and they asked me to come over and take measures accordingly."
"What's your railroad?" he asked.

"The Tennessee Central."
The American tilted back his chair a little and poised it an instant.

"Well, I'm sorry you want to attack one of our institutions,"
he said, smiling. "But I guess you had better enjoy yourself FIRST!"

"I'm certainly rather afraid I can't work in this weather,"
the young barrister confessed.

"Leave that to the natives," said Mr. Westgate.
"Leave the Tennessee Central to me, Mr. Beaumont.

Some day we'll talk it over, and I guess I can make it square.
But I didn't know you Englishmen ever did any work,

in the upper classes."
"Oh, we do a lot of work; don't we, Lambeth?" asked Percy Beaumont.

"I must certainly be at home by the 19th of September,"
said the younger Englishman, irrelevantly but gently.

"For the shooting, eh? or is it the hunting, or the fishing?"
inquired his entertainer.