These were two young Americans, who had been fellow-students with Dick Hammond, and whom the General had met on the day before and invited to breakfast and to go to the Derby with his party.
After bowing to the ladies and shaking hands with the gentlemen, the new-comers took the seats offered them, and commenced upon the all-engrossing subject of the hour.
“Fine day for the Derby, sir!” said Mr. Spencer, who had been three years in London attached to the American Minister’s suite, and might be supposed to be posted on the subject. “Very fine day for the Derby.”
“Fine day! Why, do you see how it is raining?” demanded the General, in surprise.
“Drizzling, sir, drizzling; just enough to lay the dust.”
“Dust! ah! by the way that reminds me! Here is a lunatic has brought an assortment of veils, and he says we must each wear one—men and women both.”
“Oh, yes, sir—the regular thing, you know, like the train at court. It is to protect the wearer from the smothering dust.”
“But,” said the General, frowning, “as I was just asking my nephew when you came in, where is the dust to come from on such a day as this?”
“Oh, sir, it may clear up by the time we shall be coming home. And it is in the home-coming we raise the sirocco. We must be prepared for the worst.”
“Worst? Do you call clear weather the worst?”