“No, indeed,” Billy assured him. “Perhaps Morton will join us. His hotel is near ours.”
Mr. Trevelyan murmured something about its being a great pleasure to have met them all and hurried away.
“Isn’t he great?” said Billy eagerly. “He’s the most modest fellow you ever saw. Never mentions his own part in all those woolly Australian tales until you quiz him, and then you find he was ‘it’ every time. Now I happen to know that his sister is visiting a countess, but you notice he was careful to say just ‘a friend.’”
“If he’d said a countess it would have been blowing,” said John decidedly. “No nice fellow would have lugged in the countess in that connection. How’d you meet him, Billy?”
“On the street,” laughed Billy. “He asked me the way to the Army and Navy Club. When I told him, he noticed I was an American, of course——”
“Oh, come off, Billy,” John broke in. “He’d know that the minute he set eyes on you.”
“He didn’t know it till I spoke,” persisted Billy. “You see he doesn’t belong here—hasn’t been in London before for fifteen years. Well, anyhow he said he was glad an American could tell him what he’d asked half a dozen Englishmen who couldn’t. Then we walked on together a bit, and found we were both traveling alone and seeing the sights, and I asked him to meet me for dinner. Then we went to the Tower together, and out to Kew Gardens, and then he moved to my hotel and we rather joined forces. He’s an awfully good sort.”
“I don’t doubt that he is,” agreed John heartily.
“The way he speaks interests me,” said Madeline. “Was he born in England? Were his parents both English, do you know?”
Billy nodded. “Australians get to speaking queerly, he says.”