by his wife, a stout, resolute matron, in heavy boots, a sensible stuff gown, with a lot of cotton lace fudged about her neck, and a broad brimmed hat with a vegetable garden on top.  The little man was always in pursuit of information, in his guide-book or from his fellow-passengers, and whenever he obtained any he invariably repeated it to his wife, who said “Fancy!” and “Now, really!” in a rising inflection that expressed surprise and expectation.

The conceited American, who commonly draws himself into a shell when he travels, and affects indifference, and seems to be losing all natural curiosity, receptivity, and the power of observation, is pretty certain to undervalue the intelligence of this class of English travelers, and get amusement out of their peculiarities instead of learning from them how to make everyday of life interesting.  Even King, who, besides his national crust of exclusiveness, was today wrapped in the gloom of Irene’s letter, was gradually drawn to these simple, unpretending people.  He took for granted their ignorance of America—­ignorance of America being one of the branches taught in the English schools—­and he soon discovered that they were citizens of the world.  They not only knew the Continent very well, but they had spent a winter in Egypt, lived a year in India, and seen something of China and much of Japan.  Although they had been scarcely a fortnight in the United States, King doubted if there were ten women in the State of New York, not professional teachers, who knew as much of the flora of the country as this plain-featured, rich-voiced woman.  They called King’s attention to a great many features of the landscape he had never noticed before, and asked him a great many questions about farming and stock and wages that he could not answer.  It appeared that Mr. Stanley Stubbs, Stoke-Cruden—­for that was the name and address of the present discoverers of America—­had a herd of short-horns, and that Mrs. Stubbs was even more familiar with the herd-book than her husband.  But before the fact had enabled King to settle the position of his new acquaintance satisfactorily to himself, Mrs. Stubbs upset his estimate by quoting Tennyson.

“Your great English poet is very much read here,” King said, by way of being agreeable.

“So we have heard,” replied Mrs. Stubbs.  “Mr. Stubbs reads Tennyson beautifully.  He has thought of giving some readings while we are here.  We have been told that the Americans are very fond of readings.”

“Yes,” said King, “they are devoted to them, especially readings by Englishmen in their native tongue.  There is a great rage now for everything English; at Newport hardly anything else is spoken.”

Mrs. Stubbs looked for a moment as if this might be an American joke; but there was no smile upon King’s face, and she only said, “Fancy!  You must make a note of Newport, dear.  That is one of the places we must see.  Of course Mr. Stubbs has never read in public, you know.  But I suppose that would make no difference, the Americans are so kind and so appreciative.”