The Duchess had a fine contemplative pause—evidently with more to say. She made, in the quantity, her next selection. “Lambeth says he has seen so much of you.”
“He has been with us very often—he has been a ministering angel,” Bessie hastened to put on record.
“I daresay you’re used to that. I’m told there’s a great deal of that in America.”
“A great deal of angelic ministering?” the girl laughed again.
“Is that what you call it? I know you’ve different expressions.”
“We certainly don’t always understand each other,” said Mrs. Westgate, the termination of whose interview with Lady Pimlico had allowed her to revert to their elder visitor.
“I’m speaking of the young men calling so much on the young ladies,” the Duchess explained.
“But surely in England,” Mrs. Westgate appealed, “the young ladies don’t call on the young men?”
“Some of them do—almost!” Lady Pimlico declared. “When a young man’s a great parti.”
“Bessie, you must make a note of that,” said Mrs. Westgate. “My sister”—she gave their friends the benefit of the knowledge—“is a model traveller. She writes down all the curious facts she hears in a little book she keeps for the purpose.”