_Enter_ LORD F. _l. d., dressed as before_. _Lord F. (looking about)._ I must have made a mistake in the door, for I got into the butler’s pantry; but this is right, I am sure. Queer place and queer manners! Will make interesting reading, though. Ah, a good chance to fill up my journal. (_Seats himself at desk, takes out book, and writes, speaking aloud and soliloquising as he does so._) “At 5.15 reached some unpronounceable and unspellable place. Was met by Mrs. Wycherly at front door”—curious fashion that! It made me take her for the housekeeper at first. “She insisted, in spite of my protests,”—I suppose it was an American idea of hospitality,—“in taking me at once into the drawing-room and presenting me to the house-party, and giving me a cup of tea. I felt very disagreeable, both from the condition I was in, and the fact that all of them kept making remarks which were entirely unintelligible to me. The young ladies were very kind, but more forward even than they are in England, though in a different way.”—I confess I rather liked it.—“Read some of my journal aloud and had no corrections. Blizzard applied to Western girls means that they talk a great deal. Was shown to my room by Mrs. Wycherly and the young ladies, which was rather embarrassing, especially as they seemed inclined to linger, and only hurried out on the appearance of the gentlemen. On leaving, one of the girls slipped her hand into mine and gave it a distinct squeeze, at the same time asking in a whisper, ‘Did your sister send her love?’”—Now the idea of Sappho sending her love to a girl of whom she had never heard!—“I pretended not to hear, but she evidently knew that she had been too free, for as she left she jerked her head towards the gentlemen and said, ‘They didn’t see.’ Could not change my travelling suit, my boxes having gone astray. Found a letter pinned to my pin-cushion, and when the valet brought the hot water, he gave me another. Both, judging from the hand-writing and paper, seem to be written by ladies and gentlemen.”—I should like to know what they mean? I wonder if it’s good form in America to play jokes on guests? (_Produces notes and reads._) “Dear F.”—(_Rises and comes to c._) Now the idea of the fellow writing to me in that way on the acquaintance of a single afternoon—why, even my best friends only say “Dear Ferrol.”—“You were simply marvellous. I would have staked my bottom dollar on your identity, if I had not known who you were.”—Now what does he mean by that, I wonder?—“You were so real that Dennis wanted to kick you, and nothing but the presence of the ladies prevented him.”—Gad! I wonder if these fellows can be gentlemen, and if so, whether they are a fair specimen—kick me! (_Pause._) Well, I suppose they’re jealous.—“So don’t be too hard on us. Now as to the future. If we do not see each other this evening, you must get up before breakfast, go out of the side door, and strike across the lawn toward the river. Three minutes’ walk