"Don't overdo it," Sophy begged.
"I can only judge by results," John insisted. "I have dined, and I am happy; therefore, the dinner must have been good."
"You are so convincing!" Sophy murmured. "There is such a finality about your statements that I would not venture to dispute them. But remember that your future entertainment is in the hands of two women, one of whom is a deserving but struggling young artist without the means of gratifying her expensive tastes. There are heaps of places we are going to take you to which even Louise pretends she cannot afford. It is so fortunate, Mr. Strangewey, that you are rich!"
"I believe you would be just as nice to me if I weren't," John ventured.
"I am so susceptible!" Sophy sighed, looking into her empty coffee-cup; "much more susceptible than Louise."
"I won't have Mr. Strangewey spoiled," Louise put in. "And don't build too much upon his being content with us as entertainers-in-chief. Remember the halfpenny papers. In a few days he will be interviewed—'Millionaire Farmer Come to London to Spend His Fortune.' He will become famous. He will buy a green morocco engagement-book, and perhaps employ a secretary. We shall probably have to ask ourselves to luncheon three weeks ahead."
"I feel these things coming," John declared.
"My children," said Louise, rising, "we must remember that we are going to the Palace. It is quite time we started."
They made their way down two flights of narrow stairs into the street. The commissionnaire raised his whistle to his lips, but Louise stopped him.
"We will walk," she suggested. "This way, Mr. Strangewey!"