Betsey brought her out, and we got into the car and sped away. “One more count!” I exclaimed, with a laugh. “One less count!” said Gwendolyn. “I'm sure he's dead.” “Ladies have limited rights outside the house in Italy,” I said. “I don't mind those silly men,” said Gwendolyn. “I've been spoken to like that a dozen times, but I hurry along and pretend that I do not hear them.” “That count will be careful after this,” I suggested. “If he lives,” said Gwendolyn. “I'm afraid that his head is cracked.” “His head was cracked long ago,” was my answer. “Uncle Soc,” said Gwendolyn (she had begun to call me Uncle Soc there in Italy), “Richard and Italy could never get along together.” “Richard, Gwendolyn, and America are a better combination,” I suggested. “What a pretty thought!” she exclaimed, just as we overtook the young man about a mile out on the highway to Rome. “Get in here and behave yourself,” I said. “You've had exercise enough.” “I could stand more, if necessary,” he answered, with a laugh, as he sat down with us. That ride to Rome was one of the merriest, in my life. For the young people it had been a day of joy and progress, but on the whole it hadn't been a highly creditable day. So let's drop the curtain right here and let it go into history. XI.--IN WHICH WE GET INTO THE FLASH AND GLITTER OF HIGH LIFE NEXT evening Betsey and I went to dinner with Mrs. Moses Fraley, of Terre Haute, at a fashionable hotel. There we saw a show-window in one of the greatest matrimonial department stores in Europe. Buyers and sellers and bought and sold were there in full force to inspect the bargains, and we were able to note reliably the undertone of the market; and our observations had some effect, I believe, on the fortunes of Miss Norris. Nothing was said of “the count” in our invitation, but we hoped to have at least a look at him. We put on our best clothes, and our plain, agricultural natures were well disguised when the impressive head porter at our destination helped us out of Norris's car and almost touched his forehead on the pavement at sight of us. That bow was easily worth a two-franc piece, and he got it. “The Yank and his franc are easily parted,” Betsey remarked, as we entered the great whirling door. We were in the game, and I was firmly resolved to keep pace with our compatriots from Terre Haute for one evening, anyhow. Two more double-franc pieces in the coat-room established my reputation. With a good suit of clothes and the sudden expenditure of two dollars and a half you can acquire a reputation in any European hotel. Reputations are the cheapest things in Europe, but the costs for upkeep are considerable. Every young man in the place was trying to do something for us and I began to feel the rich, blue blood in my veins.