some day that suits you. There are a lot of things I want to do for you.
I want to make you have a good time. And I should like very much

to present some of my friends to you, if it wouldn't bore you.
Then it would be awfully kind of you to come down to Branches."

"We are much obliged to you, Lord Lambeth," said Bessie.
"What is Branches?"

"It's a house in the country. I think you might like it."
Willie Woodley and Mrs. Westgate at this moment were sitting

in silence, and the young man's ear caught these last words of Lord
Lambeth's. "He's inviting Miss Bessie to one of his castles,"

he murmured to his companion.
Mrs. Westgate, foreseeing what she mentally called "complications,"

immediately got up; and the two ladies, taking leave of Lord Lambeth,
returned, under Mr. Woodley's conduct, to Jones's Hotel.

Lord Lambeth came to see them on the morrow, bringing Percy
Beaumont with him--the latter having instantly declared his

intention of neglecting none of the usual offices of civility.
This declaration, however, when his kinsman informed him

of the advent of their American friends, had been preceded
by another remark.

"Here they are, then, and you are in for it."
"What am I in for?" demanded Lord Lambeth.

"I will let your mother give it a name. With all respect to whom,"
added Percy Beaumont, "I must decline on this occasion to do any

more police duty. Her Grace must look after you herself."
"I will give her a chance," said her Grace's son, a trifle grimly.

"I shall make her go and see them."
"She won't do it, my boy."

"We'll see if she doesn't," said Lord Lambeth.
But if Percy Beaumont took a somber view of the arrival

of the two ladies at Jones's Hotel, he was sufficiently
a man of the world to offer them a smiling countenance.

He fell into animated conversation--conversation, at least,
that was animated on her side--with Mrs. Westgate, while his

companion made himself agreeable to the younger lady.
Mrs. Westgate began confessing and protesting,

declaring and expounding.
"I must say London is a great deal brighter and prettier just

now than it was when I was here last--in the month of November.
There is evidently a great deal going on, and you seem to have

a good many flowers. I have no doubt it is very charming
for all you people, and that you amuse yourselves immensely.

It is very good of you to let Bessie and me come and sit
and look at you. I suppose you will think I am very satirical,

but I must confess that that's the feeling I have in London."
"I am afraid I don't quite understand to what feeling you allude,"

said Percy Beaumont.
"The feeling that it's all very well for you English people.

Everything is beautifully arranged for you."
"It seems to me it is very well for some Americans, sometimes,"

rejoined Beaumont.
"For some of them, yes--if they like to be patronized.

But I must say I don't like to be patronized. I may be very eccentric,
and undisciplined, and outrageous, but I confess I never was fond

of patronage. I like to associate with people on the same terms
as I do in my own country; that's a peculiar taste that I have.

But here people seem to expect something else--Heaven knows what!
I am afraid you will think I am very ungrateful, for I certainly

have received a great deal of attention. The last time I was here,
a lady sent me a message that I was at liberty to come and see her."

"Dear me! I hope you didn't go," observed Percy Beaumont.
"You are deliciously naive, I must say that for you!"

Mrs. Westgate exclaimed. "It must be a great advantage to you here
in London. I suppose that if I myself had a little more naivete,

I should enjoy it more. I should be content to sit on a chair
in the park, and see the people pass, and be told that this

is the Duchess of Suffolk, and that is the Lord Chamberlain,
and that I must be thankful for the privilege of beholding them.

I daresay it is very wicked and critical of me to ask for
anything else. But I was always critical, and I freelyconfess

to the sin of being fastidious. I am told there is some remarkably
superior second-rate society provided here for strangers.

Merci! I don't want any superior second-rate society.
I want the society that I have been accustomed to."

"I hope you don't call Lambeth and me second rate," Beaumont interposed.
"Oh, I am accustomed to you," said Mrs. Westgate. "Do you know

that you English sometimes make the most wonderful speeches?
The first time I came to London I went out to dine--as I told you,

I have received a great deal of attention. After dinner,
in the drawing room, I had some conversation with an old lady;

I assure you I had. I forget what we talked about, but she
presently said, in allusion to something we were discussing,

'Oh, you know, the aristocracy do so-and-so; but in one's own
class of life it is very different.' In one's own class of life!

What is a poor unprotected American woman to do in a country
where she is liable to have that sort of thing said to her?"

"You seem to get hold of some very queer old ladies;
I compliment you on your acquaintance!" Percy Beaumont exclaimed.

"If you are trying to bring me to admit that London is an
odious place, you'll not succeed. I'm extremely fond of it,

and I think it the jolliest place in the world."
"Pour vous autres. I never said the contrary," Mrs. Westgate retorted.

I make use of this expression, because both interlocutors had begun
to raise their voices. Percy Beaumont naturally did not like to hear

his country abused, and Mrs. Westgate, no less naturally, did not like
a stubborn debater.

"Hallo!" said Lord Lambeth; "what are they up to now?"
And he came away from the window, where he had been standing

with Bessie Alden.
"I quite agree with a very clever countrywoman of mine," Mrs. Westgate

continued with charming ardor, though with imperfect relevancy.
She smiled at the two gentlemen for a moment with terrible brightness, as if

to toss at their feet--upon their native heath--the gauntlet of defiance.
"For me, there are only two social positions worth speaking of--

that of an American lady and that of the Emperor of Russia."
"And what do you do with the American gentlemen?" asked Lord Lambeth.

"She leaves them in America!" said Percy Beaumont.
On the departure of their visitors, Bessie Alden told her sister that

Lord Lambeth would come the next day, to go with them to the Tower,
and that he had kindly offered to bring his "trap" and drive them thither.

Mrs. Westgate listened in silence to this communication,
and for some time afterward she said nothing. But at last,

"If you had not requested me the other day not to mention it,"
she began, "there is something I should venture to ask you."

Bessie frowned a little; her dark blue eyes were more dark than blue.
But her sister went on. "As it is, I will take the risk.

You are not in love with Lord Lambeth: I believe it, perfectly.
Very good. But is there, by chance, any danger of your becoming so?

It's a very simple question; don't take offense. I have a
particular reason," said Mrs. Westgate, "for wanting to know."

Bessie Alden for some moments said nothing; she only looked displeased.
"No; there is no danger," she answered at last, curtly.

"Then I should like to frighten them," declared Mrs. Westgate,
clasping her jeweled hands.

"To frighten whom?"
"All these people; Lord Lambeth's family and friends."

"How should you frighten them?" asked the young girl.