"Why, hundreds of lines go to London."
"Well, I don't know about hundreds. There's the Grand Trunk, and perhaps they carry a line of portmanteaux or hat-boxes. But I always take the Grand Trunk. More commodious. Besides, one has to have a lot of clothes for a big place like London; it has ten thousand people."
"Five millions, you mean."
"Oh, come off; there are not that number in the whole of Ontario, or Canada, for that matter."
"London, Ontario? But I was talking of the real London."
"I see; another place, I suppose, of the same name—called after it, most likely. Oh yes, I know, of course."
The Tenderfoot raged furiously.
"All right, keep on your shirt," said the Blackguard; "I'll be quite serious if you like. Yes, I know Town—lots of relations there."
"What name?" asked the Tenderfoot innocently. "Where do they live?"
"All over the place—different branches of the family, you know, but you can always tell them by their coat-of-arms—the Medici arms, three golden globes and a side door. They're mostly uncles."