ernoon, girls. I am awfully late, but I met Miss James
and got talking to her, and didn't realize how time was passing. Miss
James, young ladies.

[_All nod rather stiffly._ Miss Sommerfield _extends her hand,
and_ Miss James _touches it with the tips of her fingers_.]

_Miss James_. So happy, I am sure. I was quite by meself, do you know,
and Miss Sayres kindly spoke to me. Do you not find it rather lonely
here?

_Olive_. Oh, not at all.

_Victoria_. It's simply perfect. We all know each other, and how could
we be lonely?

_Miss James_. You all know each other? Just fancy! A party of girls
travelling together. How very odd!

_Olive_. No, Miss James, we have made each other's acquaintance since we
came here. But American girls get acquainted easily.

_Miss James_. Only fancy that, now! It is truly a democratic country. In
England, you know, at the watering-places, I stay with mamma a whole
season, and we never speak to strangers. Mamma is very particular.

_Madge_. Well, Miss James, to make you feel easier about us, we will
give you references.

_Miss James_. I dare say you are all right. But in England it is so
different, so much more established, you know. This is the land of the
people.

_Grace_. Have you been to Chicago?

_Miss James_. No; but we are going there, of course.

_Grace_. Chicago is fine, when you get there; but it's dangerous
travelling. Great herds of buffalo wander on the plains, and bands of
Indians lie in ambush for the trains.

_Miss James_. Only fancy! How do the trains ever pass?

_Grace_. It all depends on your engineer. If he understands his
business, he shoots at lightning speed through Indians and buffaloes.
But you can't feel quite safe till you get there.

_Miss James_. I must tell mamma of this. I am sure she will not go.

_Miss Sommerfield_. We should go on with our preparations, girls. Has
anybody a suggestion to make?

_Helen_. I have an idea. We have among the hotel guests a fine pianist.
Perhaps he would play for us.

_Grace_. You mean that gloomy-looking man with such a name?

_Olive_. With a long mustache, and eyes with white in them?

_Helen_. Speak of him respectfully. He plays like an angel.

_Victoria_. What's his name?

_Helen_. Stradelerewsky.

_Charlotte_. Oh, horrors! Say it again slowly.

_Helen_. Strad-e- (_think of the Stradivarius fiddle_) le-rewsky (_think
of Paderewsky_). Now, say it altogether.

_All_. Strad-e-le-rew-sky.