Trevelyan smiled. “I think I can accommodate you, if you don’t want too much. You carry express checks, too?” He looked at John.
“All good Americans do,” declared John.
“Except me,” Babbie put in. “I carry gold certificates.”
“You’d better not say that too loud,” laughed John. “With your gold certificates, and that ring”—pointing at the sparkling hoop of diamonds that had been Babbie’s father’s last present to her and that she always wore—“you’d be a valuable prey for brigands.” He pointed to the shadowy length of Queen Mary’s “pleached walk” just behind them. “These European show-places swarm with adventurers. How do you know that Trevelyan isn’t one, and that he isn’t planning to drag you off to that pleached walk after dinner and rob you?”
Babbie laughed. “I’m not afraid. But it is queer, isn’t it, how the first subject of conversations among travelers is always, ‘How do you carry your money?’ I’ve told lots of people how I carry mine.” She turned to Trevelyan. “I told you the very first time I met you.”
“Did you?” asked Trevelyan absently. “I don’t remember. Shall we go and walk in Mary’s bower, Miss Hildreth?”
Babbie had not liked Mr. Trevelyan particularly before, but he was so entertaining this afternoon that she was secretly annoyed when she found herself paired off with Mr. Dwight for the long row down the river. Mr. Trevelyan was with Betty, who always got on beautifully with Mr. Dwight. But it couldn’t be helped, so Babbie settled herself to enjoy the river and make the best of her rather prosy companion. The river was crowded with pleasure-craft—motor-boats, launches, rowboats, and punts. These last fascinated Betty, because they were different from anything in America.
“I like all these nice slow English things,” she told Mr. Trevelyan. “Can you punt?”
He nodded. “But don’t you notice that in punting the girl nearly always does the work?” He held his oars in one hand and pointed to a boat that was coming up-stream near the other bank. As he did so, he turned to face it and the man who was lolling on the cushions recognized him and sat up suddenly.
“How are you, Lestrange?” he called across the water. “Haven’t seen you in weeks.”