hem, yes--if they like to be patronized. But I must say I
don't like to be patronized. I may be very eccentric, and undisciplined,
and outrageous, but I confess I never was fond of patronage. I like
to associate with people on the same terms as I do in my own country;
that's a peculiar taste that I have. But here people seem to expect
something else--Heaven knows what! I am afraid you will think I am very
ungrateful, for I certainly have received a great deal of attention. The
last time I was here, a lady sent me a message that I was at liberty to
come and see her."

"Dear me! I hope you didn't go," observed Percy Beaumont.

"You are deliciously naive, I must say that for you!" Mrs. Westgate
exclaimed. "It must be a great advantage to you here in London. I
suppose that if I myself had a little more naivete, I should enjoy it
more. I should be content to sit on a chair in the park, and see the
people pass, and be told that this is the Duchess of Suffolk, and that
is the Lord Chamberlain, and that I must be thankful for the privilege
of beholding them. I daresay it is very wicked and critical of me to ask
for anything else. But I was always critical, and I freely confess to
the sin of being fastidious. I am told there is some remarkably superior
second-rate society provided here for strangers. MERCI! I don't want
any superior second-rate society. I want the society that I have been
accustomed to."

"I hope you don't call Lambeth and me second rate," Beaumont interposed.

"Oh, I am accustomed to you," said Mrs. Westgate. "Do you know that you
English sometimes make the most wonderful speeches? The first time I
came to London I went out to dine--as I told you, I have received a
great deal of attention. After dinner, in the drawing room, I had some
conversation with an old lady; I assure you I had. I forget what we
talked about, but she presently said, in allusion to something we were
discussing, 'Oh, you know, the aristocracy do so-and-so; but in one's
own class of life it is very different.' In one's own class of life!
What is a poor unprotected American woman to do in a country where she
is liable to have that sort of thing said to her?"

"You seem to get hold of some very queer old ladies; I compliment you
on your acquaintance!" Percy Beaumont exclaimed. "If you are trying to
bring me to admit that London is an odious place, you'll not succeed.
I'm extremely fond of it, and I think it the jolliest place in the
world