Lord Lambeth’s exhilaration increased. “‘Gad, I believe that, to get your money’s worth over here, you Americans would go anywhere!” “We wish to go to Parliament,” said Bessie. “That’s one of the first things.” “Ah, it would bore you to death!” he returned. “We wish to hear you speak.” “I never speak—except to young ladies.” She looked at him from under the shade of her parasol. “You’re very strange,” she then quietly concluded. “I don’t think I approve of you.” “Ah, now don’t be severe, Miss Alden!” he cried with the note of sincerity. “Please don’t be severe. I want you to like me—awfully.” “To like you awfully? You mustn’t laugh at me then when I make mistakes. I regard it as my right—as a free-born American—to make as many mistakes as I choose.” “Upon my word I didn’t laugh at you,” the young man pleaded. “And not only that,” Bessie went on; “but I hold that all my mistakes should be set down to my credit. You must think the better of me for them.” “I can’t think better of you than I do,” he declared. Again, shadily, she took him in. “You certainly speak very well to young ladies. But why don’t you address the House?—isn’t that what they call it?” “Because I’ve nothing to say.” “Haven’t you a great position?” she demanded. He looked a moment at the back of his glove. “I’ll set that down as one of your mistakes—to your credit.” And as if he disliked talking about his position he changed the subject. “I wish you’d let me go with you to the Tower and to Hampton Court and to all those other places.” “We shall be most happy,” said Bessie. “And of course I shall be delighted to show you the Houses of Parliament—some day that suits you. There are a lot of things I want to do for you. I want you to 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’re much obliged to you, Lord Lambeth,” said Bessie. “And what may Branches be?” “It’s a house in the country. I think you might like it.” Willie Woodley and Mrs. Westgate were at this moment sitting in silence, and the young man’s ear caught these last words of the other pair. “He’s inviting Miss Bessie to one of his castles,” he murmured to his companion. Mrs. Westgate hereupon, foreseeing what she mentally called “complications,” immediately got up; and the two ladies, taking leave of their English friend, returned, under conduct of their American, to Jones’s Hotel. V Lord Lambeth came to see them on the morrow, bringing Percy Beaumont with him—the latter having at once declared his intention of neglecting none of the usual offices of civility. This declaration, however, on his kinsman’s informing him of the advent of the two ladies, had been preceded by another exchange. “Here they are then and you’re in for it.” “And what am I in for?” the younger man had inquired.