Doctor Feeder followed the direction of his eyes and after a moment understood his allusion. Little Jackson Lemon passed, on his big horse, along the avenue again, riding beside one of the bright creatures who had come that way shortly before under escort of Lord Canterville. His lordship followed in conversation with the other, his younger daughter. As they advanced Jackson Lemon turned his eyes to the multitude under the trees, and it so happened that they rested on the Dexter Freers. He smiled, he raised his hat with all possible friendliness, and his three companions turned to see whom he so frankly greeted. As he settled his hat on his head he espied the young man from Cincinnati, whom he had at first overlooked; whereupon he laughed for the luck of it and waved Sidney Feeder an airy salutation with his hand, reining in a little at the same time just for an instant, as if he half-expected this apparition to come and speak to him. Seeing him with strangers, none the less, Sidney Feeder hung back, staring a little as he rode away.
It is open to us to know that at this moment the young lady by whose side he was riding put him the free question: “Who are those people you bowed to?”
“Some old friends of mine—Americans,” said Jackson Lemon.
“Of course they’re Americans; there’s nothing anywhere but Americans now.”
“Oh yes, our turn’s coming round!” laughed the young man.
“But that doesn’t say who they are,” his companion continued. “It’s so difficult to say who Americans are,” she added before he had time to answer her.
“Dexter Freer and his wife—there’s nothing difficult about that. Every one knows them,” Jackson explained.
“I never heard of them,” said the English girl.
“Ah, that’s your fault and your misfortune. I assure you everybody knows them.”
“And does everybody know the little man with the fat face to whom you kissed your hand?”