"Training him for a husband’s duties," said Lord Musselburgh, without any evil intention whatever; for indeed he was more anxious about getting a supply of foot-warmers into the carriage that had been reserved for him. Then the kissing had to be gone through; there were final farewells and good wishes; away went the train; there was a fluttering of handkerchiefs; and here was Vincent Harris, a captive in the hands of those two young American damsels—who, at first, did not seem to know what to do with him. But very soon their shyness wore off; and it must be freely conceded that they treated him well. To begin with, they took him down into the town, and led him to a little table at a confectioner’s, and ordered two ices for themselves and for him a glass of sherry and a biscuit. When that fluid was placed before him, he made no remark: his face was perfectly grave. "What’s the matter now?" Louie Drexel asked, looking at him. "I said nothing," he answered. "What are you thinking, then?" "Nothing—nothing." "But I insist on knowing." "Oh, very well," he said. "But it isn’t my fault. I promised to obey. If you ask me to drink a glass of confectioner’s sherry I will do so—though it seems a pity to die so young." "What would you rather have then—tea or an ice?" She got an ice for him; and duly paid for the three—much to his consternation, but he had undertaken to be quite submissive. Then they took him for a walk and showed him the beauties of the place, making believe to recognise the chief features and public buildings of New York. Then they carried him with them to Mrs. Ellison’s house, and ascended into the drawing room there, chatting, laughing, nonsense-making, in a very frank and engaging manner. Finally, towards six o’clock, Miss Drexel rang the bell, and ordered the carriage. "Oh, I say, don’t do that," Vincent interposed, grown serious for a moment. "People don’t like tricks being played with their horses. You may do anything else in a house but that." "And pray who asked you to interfere?" she retorted, in a very imperious manner; so there was nothing for it but acquiescence and resignation.