"You’re too much of a child to look loud in anything. But it will be so effective and a little audacious. That’s what takes. He’ll be sure to _see_ you in that dress." And, as she went, she fired a last injunction, "wear your red silk; it’ll hit him right in the eye." *CHAPTER VI.* *Guests* Meanwhile the travellers were approaching their destination. They had compared the Hudson River with the Thames and the Rhine, and were now watching the forest tracts and the streams choked with logs awaiting the elements. "Uncle Nelson," said Lord Canning, "this is the first time in my rememberance that I have visited people I did not know well, in a country I have never seen." Lord Stafford glanced sleepily at his nephew from under his tweed travelling cap. They were in the smoking car. "There’s a charm about everything fresh and new," he murmured. "That’s what you’re always saying, Thurston." "There certainly is," said the other, eagerly. "I realize it in this fresh, young, healthy country. It has given me many new sensations. I felt quite old when I first came here—" "Old!" repeated Lord Stafford. "You?" "Just turned forty, my hair commencing to grey." Lord Canning laughed, and then sighed. "Yes," he continued, smoking thoughtfully, "there is nothing like fresh scenes. They give new food for the mind—another impetus to life—a man like myself needs such a stimulus—if I should continue to rust in England, I would shortly become—antiquated. Do you notice that the trees are for the most part conical in shape, Uncle Nelson?" "You always were a restless character, Thurston." "Nature designed me for an explorer." "You’ll never be satisfied until you undertake that expedition to the pole—" "Never—unless—" "Unless what?" "A new interest should arise in my life—necessarily something very absorbing." "I know of nothing, except—perhaps—a woman. And as for that, every mamma in England has despaired of you." Lord Canning laughed heartily, and his uncle yawned and closed his eyes, considering he had satisfactorily disposed of the subject. "We are strangers to our host," recommenced Lord Canning, after a short survey of the vanishing prospect. "The invitation was necessarily off-hand, but very hearty." "They do everything in an off-hand way, over here," said Lord Stafford, "at least, so it seems to me." "We have been travelling too much to judge very correctly of manners and customs," answered his nephew. "And have we met the entire family?" "I believe so." "Mrs. Bunker—" "Mrs. Bunker!" exclaimed Lord Stafford, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Isn’t she a lively woman?" "Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater and daughter." "The little girl," said Lord Stafford, sinking back on the cushions, "the little, blonde girl, who had plenty to say for herself." "She did not really say so much," returned Lord Canning, taking out another cigar. "It was how she said it."