But Ruth had not found him so amusing as I did. She said that she found that continuous exaggeration, which is supposed to be the essence of American humor, rather tiring, and added: "I do not deny his good spirit and kindliness, but underneath there seems to be a kind of hardness in men of his sort that frightens me. Your neighbor of this afternoon who rebuked you, was unquestionably lacking in a sense of humor--or at any rate in the kind we are used to--but he was a finer type than this man, and I cannot help feeling that the man who has an awful sense of truth is a greater national asset than the man we have just left." When Ruth takes that tone I do not dare to answer, but I may say to you that I do not think she does these men justice. If "Der Tag" ever comes--and in my opinion it will not come--I think all this talk is just _fluff_--still, if it should come, I believe these reckless talkers, but shrewd--well, perhaps also hard--men will give to the nation all the shrewdness and all the energy which went into the upbuilding of their business, and yet will keep on laughing at the world, and at themselves, too, all the time! XXVIII THE "ROB" ROOM I asked John if he was writing to you and he grinned and said perhaps I had better write. The fact is, he has not been behaving very well, and is, I suspect, rather ashamed of himself--at least, I hope he is! We came to Windsor and put up at what John insisted upon calling the "Purple Sow," though it is really the "White Heifer." The next morning we went to St. George's Chapel, which seemed to me the most beautiful church I had ever seen, and where the music would have filled your heart with joy. By some ill chance, it was one of the days when they sing the Athanasian Creed, and, to my horror, John refused to stand up! He said it was "blasphemous," and I felt like asking, like the man at Barchester: "If you once begin, where will you end?" But thought it best to let him alone. The same afternoon we were shown over the castle with a horde of sightseers. John was perfectly quiet until we came to the room in which the trophies are displayed. As we were standing before one of the glass cases in which are splendid swords and cups of gold and jewels from India and China, and "the uttermost parts of the sea"--a record of the least admirable page in English history--John, I could see by the expression of his face, was _thinking_. I could only hope he would not "start" anything! But he is like Benny Joyce, who, when he was asked in Sunday School if he had any faults, replied that he thought he could say he was without any, except when his brother Tony provoked him! Well, John's "brother Tony" was near at hand, in the person of the typical English shop-keeper. Turning to John, he said, in a tone half-ashamed and half-exultant: "I say, we have collared a lot of things, have we not?" "Yes," replied John, "that is why it is called the 'Rob' room!"