"I thought Sir Charles would be here soon," she said, "for this despatch in the papers from London says that the meeting of Nocastle's creditors was postponed on receipt of a cablegram from him. Perhaps he would like to see it, Sally." But Sally did not hear. She was already hurrying downstairs to greet her distinguished callers and to be utterly crushed. Just what Sir Charles said to her I do not know, but how he said it I can easily realize, for she brought the pair up to the library to have "a real comfy time," as she put it, leaving word downstairs that if anyone except Miss Bumpschus called she was not at home. "And what do you think of America, Sir Wigge?" said Mrs. Radigan, when she had him comfortably fixed with a glass of whiskey and a cigar. "I had only to drive up Broadway, as you call your Strand, to realize why _we_ did not care to keep New York," Sir Charles replied with a grand smile. "But did you not admire the skyscrapers?" said I boldly. "In England," replied our visitor, "we have buildings every bit as long, longer, indeed, much longer, but we lay them along the ground, as they should be laid." "But, your Lordship," put in Mrs. Radigan with some spirit, "we have not the room, and must build up." "You should find the room," said Sir Charles with royal good-nature. "We find it in England, Mrs. Bannigan, and I am told that America is somewhat larger even than England." "Did Fifth Avenue not impress you?" inquired Pearl rather sweetly. "Your Piccadilly--it is your Piccadilly, I believe--should be toned down," replied the Englishman graciously. "It is too loud. The glare of the sun is blinding and overheating, Miss Vial." He spoke to my fiancée as though she were a bottle or an adjective, and I could not forbear to interpose mildly, "Miss Ve-al, Sir Charles." "In England," returned Sir Charles, "it would be Vial or possibly Willy. I am told that in America you have an absurd custom of pronouncing words the way they are spelled. Is it not so, Miss Weal?" "Yes," Pearl replied, "but----" "On the contrary," said Sir Charles, "it is easier, much easier, to spell words the way they are not pronounced. The minute you begin to pronounce as you spell, it becomes impossible to spell correctly at all. Is it not so, your Grace?" The Duke said that it was so. Moreover, he added admiringly that whatever Sir Charles said was so. Mrs. Radigan, with some of her native fire still smouldering, ventured to remark that she spelled entirely by sound and then had her secretary make the corrections, which amused her visitor immensely. When he had recovered his equanimity and polished his glass, he proceeded to demonstrate how absurd was her view. "In England, Mrs. Lanigan, we have for centuries pronounced words the way they are not spelled. Don't you suppose that if we had not found it the best thing to do we should have changed?" "But, my Lord--" began Mrs. Radigan.