Though the laugh was against them they were forced to snigger approval.
"I think," said Constance, "that our chief national failing is pomposity, and your story hits it off exactly. In one of our small Cornish towns we have a stout little Mayor who made money in cheese and bacon. He went to see the Paris Exhibition, and an Exeter man, meeting him unexpectedly at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, hailed him with delight. 'Hello, Mr. Mayor—' he began. 'Hush,' said the mayor, glancing around mysteriously, 'I'm 'ere in cog.'"
None who heard these light-hearted young people yelling with merriment would imagine that they had just dined off a piece of hard-baked bread made without yeast and washed down with water tasting of tar and turpentine.
"Now, Miss Enid, your turn," cried Pyne.
Her eyes danced mischievously.
"Unfortunately, by the accident of birth, I am deprived of the sense of humor," she said.
"It seems to be in the family all right," he hazarded, looking at Constance.
"Alas!" said Enid, "I am an American."
"I'll smile now, if that is all," said Pyne.
"But, please, I am not joking a little bit. When you go ashore you will probably hear all about me, so I may as well take the wind out of the sails of gossip. I am a mere waif, who came sailing in out of the West one day in a little boat, which must have come from the New World as no one appeared to have lost either me or it in the Old. Dad picked us both up and adopted me."