estgate.

"You should have gone to Hurlingham," said Willie Woodley.

"No; let Lord Lambeth tell us," Mrs. Westgate insisted.

"There are plenty of places to go to," said Lord Lambeth; "each one
stupider than the other. I mean people's houses; they send you cards."

"No one has sent us cards," said Bessie.

"We are very quiet," her sister declared. "We are here as travelers."

"We have been to Madame Tussaud's," Bessie pursued.

"Oh, I say!" cried Lord Lambeth.

"We thought we should find your image there," said Mrs. Westgate--"yours
and Mr. Beaumont's."

"In the Chamber of Horrors?" laughed the young man.

"It did duty very well for a party," said Mrs. Westgate. "All the women
were decolletes, and many of the figures looked as if they could speak
if they tried."

"Upon my word," Lord Lambeth rejoined, "you see people at London parties
that look as if they couldn't speak if they tried."

"Do you think Mr. Woodley could find us Mr. Beaumont?" asked Mrs.
Westgate.

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 frien