n only once in the
whole course of her life.

"Dear me!--don't you? Why, how can you exist without it? I shouldn't
think there would be anything to do here that was in the least
amusing,--not a thing. How do you spend your time?"

"I?--I don't know, I'm sure. There's always plenty to do."

"To do, yes; but in the way of amusement, I mean. Do you have many
balls? Is there any gayety going on? Where do you find your men?"

"No, we don't have balls often, but we have lawn parties, and tennis,
and once a year there's a school feast."

"Oh, yes, I know,--children in gingham frocks and pinafores, eating buns
and drinking milk-and-hot-water out of mugs. Rapturous fun it must
be,--but I think one might get tired of it in time. As for lawn parties,
I tried one in Fulham the other day, and I don't want to go to any more
in England, thank you. They never introduced a soul to us, the band
played out of tune, it was as dull as ditch-water,--just dreary,
ill-dressed people wandering in and out, and trying to look as if five
sour strawberries on a plate, and a thimbleful of ice cream were bliss
and high life and all the rest of it. The only thing really nice was the
roses; those _were_ delicious. Lady Mary Ponsonby gave me three,--to
make up for not presenting any one to me, I suppose."

"Do you still keep up the old fashion of introductions in America?" said
Imogen with calm superiority. "It's quite gone out with us. We take it
for granted that well-bred people will talk to their neighbors at
parties, and enjoy themselves well enough for the moment, and then they
needn't be hampered with knowing them afterward. It saves a lot of
complications not having to remember names, or bow to people."

"Yes, I know that's the theory, but I call it a custom introduced for
the suppression of strangers. Of course, if you know all the people
present, or who they are, it doesn't matter in the least; but if you
don't, it makes it a ghastly mockery to try to enjoy yourself at a
party. But do tell me some more about Bideford. I'm so curious about
English country life. I've seen only London so far. Is it ever warm over
here?"

"Warm?" vaguely, "what do you mean?"

"I mean _warm_. Perhaps the word is not known over here, or doesn't mean
the same thing. England seems to me just one degree better than Nova
Zembla. The sun is a mere imitation sun. He looks yellow, like a real
one, when you see him,--which isn't often,--but he doesn't burn a bit.