"Is it possible, Miss Vernon? You must excuse me, but I really thought it your travelling dress."
Waiters were now busy with the dining table at the end of the room, partially separated by folding doors; tempting entrees, steaming dishes, with delicious dainties, are now arranged.
"Surely, we dine at the table d'hote," said Mrs. Haughton, hastily; "you should have seen to it, Colonel; you know I prefer it."
"Pardon, Kate; I was unaware of this arrangement, dear."
"I am the culprit, Mrs. Haughton," said Lady Esmondet. "I thought we should all be warmer here; the air is chilly this evening."
"Oh, certainly, as you wish it; only when I take the trouble to dress for the table d'hote, I like to be seen," she answered, stiffly; "but we go to the theatre afterwards; and now, Sir Tilton, your arm." And clearing her brow, she seats herself at table, her husband opposite, with his friend on his right.
"You have no hotels at London to compare with ours of New York city,
Lady Esmondet," she said.
"You have, Mrs. Haughton, I believe, the verdict of the majority of the travelling public with you; though I have found the Langham, and others among our leading hotels, most comfortable."
"The difference between our system and theirs," said the Colonel, "is that ours savor of the British home, in the being chary of whom we admit, and a trifle pompous; while the French and Americans, as a people, are better adapted to make hotel life a pleasant success."
"Because you are too awfully too, and we are free and easy; that's what's the matter," said Blanche.