York's
wedding-day. I'm rather a tall chap, you see, and in the
crowd somebody touched me on the shoulder, and a
plaintive voice
behind me said, `You're such a big man, and I am so little, will you
please help me to save my life? My mother was separated from me in
the crowd somewhere as we were
trying to reach the Berkeley, and I
don't know what to do.' I was a
trifle nonplussed, but I did the
best I could. She was a tiny thing, in a marvellous frock and a
flowery hat and a silver
girdle and chatelaine. In another minute
she spied a second man, an officer, a full head taller than I am,
broad shoulders,
splendidly put up
altogether. Bless me! if she
didn't turn to him and say, `Oh, you're so nice and big, you're even
bigger than this other gentleman, and I need you both in this
dreadful crush. If you'll be good enough to stand on either side of
me, I shall be
awfully obliged.' We exchanged amused glances of
embarrassment over her blonde head, but there was no resisting the
irresistible. She was a small person, but she had the soul of a
general, and we obeyed orders. We stood guard over her little
ladyship for nearly an hour, and I must say she entertained us
thoroughly, for she was as clever as she was pretty. Then I got her
a seat in one of the windows of my club, while the other man, armed
with a full
description, went out to hunt up the mother; and, by
Jove! he found her, too. She would have her mother, and her mother
she had. They were
awfully jolly people; they came to
luncheon in
my chambers at the Albany afterwards, and we grew to be great
friends."
"I dare say she was an English girl masquerading," I remarked
facetiously. "What made you think her an American?"
"Oh, her general appearance and
accent, I suppose."
"Probably she didn't say Barkley," observed Francesca cuttingly;
"she would have been sure to
commit that sort of solecism."
"Why, don't you say Barkley in the States?"
"Certainly not; we never call them the States, and with us c-l-e-r-k
spells clerk, and B-e-r-k Berk."
"How very odd!" remarked Mr. Anstruther.
"No odder than you
saying Bark, and not half as odd as your calling
it Albany," I interpolated, to help Francesca.
"Quite so," said Mr. Anstruther; "but how do you say Albany in
America?"
"Penelope and I always call it Allbany,"
responded Francesca
nonsensically, "but Salemina, who has been much in England, always
calls it Albany."
This
anecdote was the signal for Miss Ardmore to remark (apropos of
her own
discrimination and the American
accent) that
hearing a lady
ask for a certain med'cine in a
chemist's shop, she noted the
intonation, and inquired of the
chemist, when the fair stranger had
retired, if she were not an American. "And she was!" exclaimed the
Honourable Elizabeth
triumphantly. "And what makes it the more
curious, she had been over here twenty years, and of course, spoke
English quite properly."
In avenging fancied insults, it is certainly more just to heap
punishment on the head of the real
offender than upon his neighbour,
and it is a
trifle difficult to decide why Francesca should chastise
Mr. Macdonald for the good-humoured sins of Mr. Anstruther and Miss
Ardmore; yet she does so, nevertheless.
The history of these chastisements she recounts in the
nightly half-
hour which she spends with me when I am endeavouring to compose
myself for sleep. Francesca is fluent at all times, but once seated
on the foot of my bed she becomes eloquent!
"It all began with his
saying--"
This is her
perennialintroduction, and I
respond as invariably,
"What began?"
"Oh, to-day's
argument with Mr. Macdonald. It was a literary
quarrel this afternoon."
"'Fools rush in--'" I quoted.
"There is a good deal of
nonsense in that old saw," she interrupted;
"at all events, the most foolish fools I have ever known stayed
still and didn't do anything. Rushing shows a certain
movement of
the mind, even if it is in the wrong direction. However, Mr.
Macdonald is both opinionated and dogmatic, but his worst enemy
could never call him a fool."