Lord Lambeth stared and looked round him. "I daresay he could.
Beaumont often comes here. Don't you think you could find him, Woodley?
Make a dive into the crowd."
"Thank you; I have had enough diving," said Willie Woodley.
"I will wait till Mr. Beaumont comes to the surface.""I will bring him to see you," said Lord Lambeth; "where are you staying?""You will find the address in my letter--Jones's Hotel.""Oh, one of those places just out of Piccadilly? Beastly hole, isn't it?"Lord Lambeth inquired.
"I believe it's the best hotel in London," said Mrs. Westgate.
"But they give you awful rubbish to eat, don't they?"his lordship went on.
"Yes," said Mrs. Westgate.
"I always feel so sorry for the people that come up to town and go to live in those places," continued the young man.
"They eat nothing but filth."
"Oh, I say!" cried Willie Woodley.
"Well, how do you like London, Miss Alden?" Lord Lambeth asked, unperturbed by this ejaculation.
"I think it's grand," said Bessie Alden.
"My sister likes it, in spite of the 'filth'!" Mrs. Westgate exclaimed.
"I hope you are going to stay a long time.""As long as I can," said Bessie.
"And where is Mr. Westgate?" asked Lord Lambeth of this gentleman's wife.
"He's where he always is--in that tiresome New York.""He must be tremendously clever," said the young man.
"I suppose he is," said Mrs. Westgate.
Lord Lambeth sat for nearly an hour with his American friends;but it is not our purpose to relate their conversation in full.
He addressed a great many remarks to Bessie Alden, and finally turned toward her altogether, while Willie Woodley entertained Mrs. Westgate.
Bessie herself said very little; she was on her guard, thinking of what her sister had said to her at lunch. Little by little, however, she interested herself in Lord Lambeth again, as she had done at Newport;only it seemed to her that here he might become more interesting.
He would be an unconscious part of the antiquity, the impressiveness, the picturesqueness, of England; and poor Bessie Alden, like many a Yankee maiden, was terribly at the mercy of picturesqueness.
"I have often wished I were at Newport again," said the young man.
"Those days I spent at your sister's were awfully jolly.""We enjoyed them very much; I hope your father is better.""Oh, dear, yes. When I got to England, he was out grouse shooting.
It was what you call in America a gigantic fraud. My mother had got nervous.
My three weeks at Newport seemed like a happy dream.""America certainly is very different from England," said Bessie.
"I hope you like England better, eh?" Lord Lambeth rejoined almost persuasively.
"No Englishman can ask that seriously of a person of another country."Her companion looked at her for a moment. "You mean it's a matter of course?""If I were English," said Bessie, "it would certainly seem to me a matter of course that everyone should be a good patriot.""Oh, dear, yes, patriotism is everything," said Lord Lambeth, not quite following, but very contented. "Now, what are you going to do here?""On Thursday I am going to the Tower."
"The Tower?"
"The Tower of London. Did you never hear of it?""Oh, yes, I have been there," said Lord Lambeth.
"I was taken there by my governess when I was six years old.
It's a rum idea, your going there."
"Do give me a few more rum ideas," said Bessie. "I want to see everything of that sort. I am going to Hampton Court, and to Windsor, and to the Dulwich Gallery."Lord Lambeth seemed greatly amused. "I wonder you don't go to the Rosherville Gardens.""Are they interesting?" asked Bessie.
"Oh, wonderful."
"Are they very old? That's all I care for," said Bessie.
"They are tremendously old; they are all falling to ruins.""I think there is nothing so charming as an old ruinous garden,"said the young girl. "We must certainly go there."Lord Lambeth broke out into merriment. "I say, Woodley," he cried, "here's Miss Alden wants to go to the Rosherville Gardens!"Willie Woodley looked a little blank; he was caught in the fact of ignorance of an apparently conspicuous feature of London life.
But in a moment he turned it off. "Very well," he said, "I'll write for a permit."Lord Lambeth's exhilaration increased. "Gad, I believe you Americans would go anywhere!" he cried.
"We wish to go to Parliament," said Bessie. "That's one of the first things.""Oh, it would bore you to death!" cried the young man.
"We wish to hear you speak."
"I never speak--except to young ladies," said Lord Lambeth, smiling.
Bessie Alden looked at him a while, smiling, too, in the shadow of her parasol. "You are very strange," she murmured.
"I don't think I approve of you."
"Ah, now, don't be severe, Miss Alden," said Lord Lambeth, smiling still more. "Please don't be severe. I want you to like me--awfully.""To like you awfully? You must not laugh at me, then, when I make mistakes.
I consider it my right--as a freeborn American--to make as many mistakes as I choose.""Upon my word, I didn't laugh at you," said Lord Lambeth.
"And not only that," Bessie went on; "but I hold that all my mistakes shall be set down to my credit. You must think the better of me for them.""I can't think better of you than I do," the young man declared.
Bessie Alden looked at him a moment again. "You certainly speak very well to young ladies. But why don't you address the House?--isn't that what they call it?"
"Because I have nothing to say," said Lord Lambeth.
"Haven't you a great position?" asked Bessie Alden.
He looked a moment at the back of his glove. "I'll set that down,"he said, "as one of your mistakes--to your credit." And as if he disliked talking about his position, he changed the subject.
"I wish you would let me go with you to the Tower, and to Hampton Court, and to all those other places.""We shall be most happy," said Bessie.
"And of course I shall be delighted to show you the House of Lords--some day that suits you. There are a lot of things I want to do for you.