"Don't turn us out, Mr. Randolph," cried Hastings. "It was not indifference that made us late; it was an ill-timed combination of Tim and rum. This is the English friend you were kind enough to say I could bring," he added as he reached the hall. "Did I tell you his name?--Thorpe, Dudley Thorpe, of Hampshire. That may interest you. You English are almost as sectional as we are." Mr. Randolph had already grasped Thorpe's hand warmly and was bidding him welcome. "My home was further north--Yorkshire," he said. "Come into the parlour and meet my wife and daughter." As they pushed their way through the crowd he "sized up" the stranger with the rapid scrutiny of that period. "You must make yourself at home in my house," he said abruptly. "There are few English here and I am more glad than I can express to meet you." "Ah--thanks!" Thorpe was somewhat taken aback, then remembered that he was in the newest section of the new world. And he had heard of the hospitality of the Californian. They had entered a large room, canvassed for the evening and denuded of all furniture except the long rows of chairs against the walls. The musicians were resting. Men were fanning girls flushed and panting after the arduous labours of the waltz of that day. At one end of the room were some twenty or thirty older women. Thorpe looked about him curiously. The women were refined and elegant, many of them with beauty or its approximate; three or four were Spanish, black-eyed, magnetic with coquetry and grace. The men, even the younger men, had a certain alertness of expression, a cool watchful glance; and they were all gentlemen. This fact impressed Thorpe at once, and as they walked down the long room something he said betrayed his thoughts. "Yes," said Mr. Randolph, quickly. "They are all from the upper walks of life--men who thought there would be a better chance for them in the new community than in even the older American ones. And they keep together because, naturally, they are the law-abiding class and responsible for the future of the country. That also accounts for what you find in their faces. This sort of life develops character very quickly. There is another element in California. You will see it--Ah! here is my wife." A tall raw-boned woman with weak blue eyes and abundant softly piled hair had arisen from the group of matrons and was advancing toward them. She was handsomely dressed in black velvet, her neck covered with point lace confined under the loose chin by a collar of diamonds. She looked cold and listless, but spoke pleasantly to the young men. "We are glad to welcome an Englishman," she said to Thorpe; and to Hastings: "You are not usually so late, and I have heard a round dozen inquiring for you."