gnorance."

"Well, the newspapers say covertly that I'm all but a naturalized
Englishman, a snob, when I'm only a recluse, a man who dresses every
night for dinner, who dines instead of eats. There are some things it
is impossible to understand, and one is the interest the newspapers
take in the private affairs of men. If they jumped on me as a
mill-owner, there might be some excuse, but they are always digging me
on the private-citizen side. Every man, in his own house, ought to be
allowed to do as he pleases. They never bothered the governor any,
when he was alive. I believe they were afraid of him."

"I can explain all that, my boy. Buy your clothes of the local
tailors; get rid of your valet; forget that you have lived in England.
They'll come around to you, then. You may talk as much as you like
about the friendliness between the Englishman and the American. It is
simply a case of two masters who are determined that their dogs shall
be friendly. Let the masters drop out of sight for a moment, and you
will find the dogs at each other's throat. And the masters? The dollar
on this side and the sovereign on the other. There is a good deal of
friendship these days that is based upon three and a half per cent.
Get into politics, my boy."

"Bah! I'd look nice running for mayor, wouldn't I? The newspapers
would howl calamity, and the demagogues would preach that I would soon
impose English wages in the shops, and all that tommyrot. No, thank
you; I'll take trouble as it comes, but I'm not looking for it."

"I see that I shall have to go back there and start the ball myself,"
said Warrington, jesting.

"Why don't you? You are not a rank outsider. The people are proud of
you."

"And always will be, so long as I have sense enough to remain here in
New York," dryly. "But if I lived there ...!"

"You are not always going to live in New York?"

"Not always."

"You've a beautiful old home up there."

"I bought that just to show the people I had the money," laughing.
"They may never forget my cabbages, but they'll forgive them."

"Nevertheless, you ought to return."

"Listen," said Warrington, lifting his hand. They became silent, and
presently the voice of the city came into the room. "I'm afraid I
could not live away from that. How many times have I stopped work to
listen to it! How many inspirations have I drawn from it! It is the
siren's music, I know, but I am no longer afraid of the reefs. Perhaps
I have beco