Frothingham watched Barney’s movements attentively, surprised that any of the American upper classes condescended to eat in such simplicity. He was almost startled when a bottle of wine was brought, for he had not forgotten Barney’s denunciation of drink and drinkers. He had seen so many concessions of real or reputed principle for his benefit since he had been moving about in American “high life” that he was somewhat cynical as to principle in America. But he had not expected to find this degree, or even kind, of weakness in Barney. “He told me he wouldn’t permit the stuff to come into his house,” he thought, laughing to himself. Then he noticed that none of the family drank it. One taste was enough for him--“No wonder he’s opposed to wine,” he said to himself. Then aloud: “If you don’t mind, I’ll just take whiskey--a little Scotch.” Barney showed amused embarrassment; Nelly and Wickham laughed. “We don’t have anything to drink,” she explained. “Father doesn’t approve. But he told us you’d been brought up differently--that you must have wine. So we’ve got wine, but there isn’t any whiskey.” Frothingham looked vague--he was relieved to find that his friend Barney was not quite so weak as he had feared. “It doesn’t in the least matter,” he replied. “I shall get on famously with this.” “I’ll take you down to the club after a while,” said Wickham, “and you can have all you want. And to-morrow--eh, father?” “Yes--yes--of course,” answered Barney. “I never do try to put on style that I don’t get left.” He winked at one of the maids significantly, and when she drew near and bent her head whispered to her. She left the dining room; in about five minutes she reappeared with a decanter of Scotch whiskey, a tall glass, a bowl of ice, and a bottle of imported soda on her tray. “Why, father!” exclaimed Nelly, “where did that come from?” Barney beamed, triumphant. “We’ve got neighbours, haven’t we?” “But what _will_ they think of you?” she asked, pretending to be shocked. “I don’t know--and I don’t care,” he answered. “I never did spend much time in worrying about what my neighbours thought of me. Probably that’s why we’re here, and not in the poorhouse.” After dinner Frothingham stayed with Nelly in the parlour instead of going to the club with Wickham. He had found many girls in America who thought they were natural or who affected naturalness as a pose: but here was the first girl, it so happened, who was really natural, without thinking anything about it. She had all the charm of the girls of his own country for him--he liked ingenuousness; and in addition she had the charm of knowledge. She knew the world, but she looked at it with ingenuous eyes--and he would not have believed this a possible combination. “How do these Americans manage it?” he said to himself. “Her father comes from well down in the lower classes, yet he has all the assurance of an aristocrat. And as for the girl, she reminds me of Evelyn--and Gwen.”