xt we see them in Egypt, still addressing Post-Cards, and offering
anything within Reason for a good Cup of Coffee.

Somehow, sitting in the dusky Tombs didn't seem to help their
Nostalgia.

Not that they would own up to being Home-Sick. No, indeed! They kept
writing back that they enjoyed every Minute spent among the Cemeteries
and Ruins, or sailing up the Nile, and Edwin was holding up
wonderfully, for an Invalid.

Only, when either of them spoke of the Children, or Corned-Beef Hash,
or the Canary, a long Silence would ensue, and then the Nervous Wreck
would cheer her by computing that they would be in God's Country
within four months, if they escaped Shipwreck, Sunstroke, and Bubonic
Plague.

While parboiling themselves down the Red Sea it began to soak in on
them that, east of Suez, the Yank has about as much standing as the
Ten Commandments.

They could have endured sleeping in a Trough and bathing with a damp
Towel and eating Food kept over from the year before, if their Fellow
Voyagers had made a slight fuss over them or evinced some interest in
the wonders of North America.

The Congressman at home had assured them, on numerous occasions, that
Columbia was the Jim of the Ocean and the most upholstered portion of
the entire Foot-Stool.

Consequently, it was somewhat disconcerting to meet British Subjects
who never had heard of Quincy, Illinois, and who moved their Deck
Chairs every time they were given a chance to hear about it.

Back in the Middle West, Edwin and Selena had been Mountains arising
from the Plain. At all points beyond Greenwich, they were simply two
unconsidered fragments of Foreign Substance.

The Passport did not seem to get them anything. While being walked
upon by the haughty Tea-Drinkers they could not claim the protection
of the American Flag, because they didn't see the Starry Banner after
leaving New York, except in front of a Fake Auction Sale, arranged
especially for Tourists.

By the time they found themselves in that vast bake-oven known as
India they were benumbed and submissive and had settled into a
Routine.

They would arrive in a New Town, fly to the Hotel, unpack, go out and
buy their colored Post-Cards, come back to the Dump (usually called
the Grand Hotel Victoria), address Cards to all the Names on the list,
then pack up, pay the Overcharges, and ride to the Railway Station,
accompanied by a small regiment of Bashi-Bazouks who were looking for
Theirs.

The si