“I never thought anything about it.  But what are you going to do about that bill?”

“I’m going to argue about it, and declare I won’t pay it, and then pay it like a true American.  Would you have me upset the traditions?  But I’ve got to go to the bank first.”

I did just as I said.  I argued to no avail.  Mrs. Black was quite haughty, and made me feel like a chimney-sweep.  I paid her in full, and when I came up I said: 

“You are quite right.  She has a poor opinion of us.  When I asked her how long it would take to drive to a house in West End, she said, ’Why do you want to know?’ I said I ‘wanted to see the house.’”

“Didn’t you tell her we were invited there?” asked my sister, scandalized.

“No; I said I had heard a good deal about the house, and she said it was open to the public on Fridays.  So I said we’d go then.”

“I think you are horrid!” cried Bee.  “The insolence of that woman!  And you actually think it is funny!  You think everything is funny.”

I soothed her by pointing out some of the things which I considered sad, notably English people trying to enjoy themselves.  Then the men began to drop in for tea, and that succeeded in making her forget her troubles.

Reggie and the Duke arrived together.  My sister at once took charge of the Duke, while Reggie said to me, “I say, what sort of creature is the old girl below?”

“Not a very good sort, I am afraid.  Why?  What has she done now?”

“Why, she stopped Abingdon and me and asked us to wipe our shoes.”

“She asked the Duke of Abingdon to wipe his shoes?” I gasped, in a whisper.

“Yes; and Freddie, who was just ahead of us, turned back and said, ’My good woman, was the cab very dirty, do you think?’”

“Oh, don’t tell my sister!  She has almost died of Mrs. Black already to-day; this would finish her completely.”

“Well, you must give your woman a talking to—­a regular going over, d’ye know?  Tell her you’ll be the mistress of the whole blooming house or you’ll tear it to pieces.  That’s the way to talk to ’em.  I told my landlady in Edinburgh once that I’d chuck her out of the window if she spoke to me until she was spoken to.  She came up and rapped on the door one Saturday night at ten o’clock, when I had some fellows there, and told me to send those men home and go to bed.”

“Then she isn’t taking advantage of us because we are Americans, the way the cabmen do?”

“Oh yes, I dare say she is; but you must stand up to her.  They’re a set of thieves, the whole of ’em.  I say, that’s a pretty picture you’ve got pinned up there.”

“That’s to hide a hole in the lace curtain,” I explained, gratuitously.  Then I remembered, and glanced apprehensively at my sister, but fortunately she had not heard me.  “That is one of the pictures from Truth, an American magazine.  I always save the middle picture when it is pretty, and pin it up on the wall.”