“What’s your railroad?” he asked.
“The Tennessee Central.”
The American tilted back his chair a little and poised it an instant. “Well, I’m sorry you want to attack one of our institutions,” he said, smiling. “But I guess you had better enjoy yourself first!”
“I’m certainly rather afraid I can’t work in this weather,” the young barrister confessed.
“Leave that to the natives,” said Mr. Westgate. “Leave the Tennessee Central to me, Mr. Beaumont. Some day we’ll talk it over, and I guess I can make it square. But I didn’t know you Englishmen ever did any work, in the upper classes.”
“Oh, we do a lot of work; don’t we, Lambeth?” asked Percy Beaumont.
“I must certainly be at home by the 19th of September,” said the younger Englishman, irrelevantly but gently.
“For the shooting, eh? or is it the hunting, or the fishing?” inquired his entertainer.
“Oh, I must be in Scotland,” said Lord Lambeth, blushing a little.
“Well, then,” rejoined Mr. Westgate, “you had better amuse yourself first, also. You must go down and see Mrs. Westgate.”