At this Minnie started.

“Oh dear!” she said.

“What’s the matter, darling?”

“An American!  Oh dear! what will become of me!”

“Why,” said Lady Dalrymple, “do you know him, then, after all?”

“Oh, I’m so afraid that I know him!”

“Who is it, dear?”

“Oh, Dowdy!  Oh, Kitty!”

“What’s the matter?”

“It must be that man.  Oh, was there ever such a trouble—­”

“Really, Minnie dearest, you are allowing yourself to get too agitated.  Who is this person?”

“He—­he’s—­an—­American.”

“An American?  Why, I just said that I thought he might be one.  I didn’t know that you were acquainted with any.”

“Oh yes; I did get acquainted with some in—­in Canada.”

“Oh; and is this man a Canadian?”

“No, Dowdy darling; only an American.”

“Well, if he’s a friend of yours, I suppose you know something about him.  But how singular it is that you have so completely forgotten his name.  Atramonte?  Why, I’m sure it’s a very singular name for an American gentleman—­at least it seems so to me—­but I don’t know much about them, you know.  Tell me, darling, who is he?”

“He—­he saved my life.”

“What! saved your life?  Why, my precious child, what are you talking about?  It was the Italian that saved your life, you know, not this one.”

“Oh, but he did too,” said Minnie, despairingly.  “I couldn’t help it.  He would do it.  Papa was washed away.  I wish they all wouldn’t be so horrid.”

Lady Dalrymple looked in an equally despairing manner at Mrs. Willoughby.

“What is it, Kitty dear? Is the child insane, or what does she mean?  How could this person have saved her life?”

“That’s just what distracts me,” said Minnie.  “They all do it.  Every single person comes and saves my life.  And now I suppose I must go down and see this person.”

“Well, really, since you say he saved your life, perhaps it would be as well not to be uncivil,” said Lady Dalrymple; “but, at the same time, he seems to me to act in a very extraordinary manner.  And he calls himself a Baron.  Do they have nobles in America?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Dowdy dear.  I never knew that he was a Baron.  He may have been the son of some American Baron; and—­and—­I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Nonsense, Minnie dear,” said Mrs. Willoughby.  “This man’s title is a foreign one.  He probably obtained it in Italy or Spain, or perhaps Mexico.  I think they have titles in Mexico, though I really don’t know.”

“Why, of course, one isn’t expected to know any thing about America,” said Lady Dalrymple.  “I can mention quite a number of English statesmen, members of the cabinet, and others, who don’t know any more about America than I do.”

“Do you really intend to go down yourself and see him, Minnie dear?” asked Mrs. Willoughby.