I did not feel much inclined to converse, for I was terribly afraid of being ridiculed. But Hilda questioned me so much more sensibly, in my opinion, than the others, that I was disposed to be more communicative to her than to them. “Where do you come from?” she questioned gently, as if she were afraid of injuring me by using her normal voice. “I am English,” I replied proudly, feeling quite sure that the very name of my beloved native land would prove a talisman of value in any part of the globe. But although the beautiful quartette refrained from laughing, they listened to me in mystified astonishment, partly, I perceived, because my small voice was a revelation to them, and partly because my answer conveyed no understandable meaning to them. “English,” at last said Agnes. “What do you mean by English? There is no such nation now. I believe that centuries ago Teuto-Scotland used to be called England, and that it used to be inhabited by the English, a warlike race which is now extinct.” “My dear Agnes,” interposed Hilda, “You surely forget that we are ourselves descended from this great race. But suppose we go on with our questions. Not so fast my little man; here, I will take care of you for the present.” The last exclamation was evoked by an attempt on the part of the Honourable Augustus to escape while the attention of the party was concentrated upon myself. He was, however, foiled in his attempt, and Hilda coolly seated him upon a tall garden seat, as if he were a baby, and kept a detaining hand on his wrist, while she listened to the replies I now made to my tormentors. “What is your name?” was the next interrogatory to which I was subjected. I did not consider it necessary to go into details, so merely gave my name. Other questions were now asked me, but I was so determined to give no food for ridicule, if I could help it, that I was rather obstinate in refusing information, and at last took refuge in the remark, delivered as quietly as my tingling nerves would permit, “That in my country people were polite to strangers, and did not interrogate them as if they were so many wild beasts.” Even while giving utterance to this remark, I remembered several scenes which proved that it was far from true. But the goddesses did not know this much, and my reproof served to convince them that the Honourable Augustus and myself were not monkeys that had learnt the art of speech, and been dressed for exhibition, but actual, though very queer, specimens of the human race divine. Apologies for their rudeness were now freely tendered by the giantesses, and one of them proposed to take us into the house at once and supply us with refreshments. No sooner said than done, and I hardly know whether I was most amused or humiliated to find myself led by the hand, as if I were only just learning to walk, and must be carefully guarded from stumbling.