“I am astonished, Kate,” exclaimed Mrs. Strong. “One would think that you could not trust your father and myself to travel alone for fear that we should be imposed upon. Count Szalaki wants to see the country, not to be interviewed by reporters.”
“By the way,” remarked Ned, looking at his father, “are there many Rexanians in New York?”
“A few hundred, I believe, on the East Side,” answered Mr. Strong, who had taken a practical interest in politics during the revival of reform movements. “Most of them came over here about ten years ago, when the present king banished a large number of revolutionists. I have heard that they make good citizens, but are inclined to talk anarchy when under the influence of beer.”
“Did you talk politics with the count?”
“I tried to,” answered Mr. Strong, again glancing at his watch, for he was sorely in need of a dinner. “He is a very sensible young man, considering the fact that he has a title and estates in a monarchical country. But he got more out of me than I obtained from him. He asked me a hundred questions—some of them really laughable—about our form of government and my opinion of the ability of a free people to rule themselves.”
“Of course,” remarked Ned, sarcastically, “you gave him to understand that we place entire confidence in the ‘people,’ hoi polloi, demos. You said nothing to him about ‘bosses’?”
Mr. Strong glanced at his son deprecatingly.
“Satire is not your strong point, Ned. Of course I didn’t dwell upon the defects of our system to the count. I rather encouraged him to think that our experiment in self-government had been a thorough success.”
“It certainly has, father—for the bankers,” commented the young man, gazing quizzically at Mr. Strong.
“Isn’t Ned unbearable!” cried Kate, warmly. “Perhaps, Ned, you’ll be willing to tell the count just how this country ought to be governed.”