The American tilted back his chair and poised it an instant. “Well, I’m sorry you want to attack one of our institutions. But I guess you had better enjoy yourself first!”
“I’m certainly rather afraid I can’t work in this weather,” the young emissary confessed.
“Leave that to the natives,” said Mr. Westgate. “Leave the Tennessee Central to me, Mr. Beaumont. I guess I can tell you more about it than most any one. 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?” Percy Beaumont appealed.
“I must certainly be back early for my engagements,” said his companion irrelevantly but gently.
“For the shooting, eh? or is it the yachting or the hunting or the fishing?” inquired his entertainer.
“Oh I must be in Scotland,”—and Lord Lambeth just amiably blushed.
“Well, then,” Mr. Westgate returned, “you had better amuse yourself first also. You must go right down and see Mrs. Westgate.”
“We should be so happy—if you’d kindly tell us the train,” said Percy Beaumont.