An American Girl in London

by Sara Jeannette Duncan

[Original]

I said it was a lovely day.

'Yes,' said Lady Bandobust. 'Mr. Pink tells me you are an American, Miss Wick, though anybody could see that much. He knows your father, I believe?'

'Not personally, I think,' I returned. 'Poppa has never visited England, Lady Bandobust.'

'Perhaps we had better say "financially," then—knows him financially.'

'I daresay that is all that is necessary,' I said, innocently at the time, though I have since understood Lady Bandobust's reason for looking at me so sharply.

'You come from Chinchinnatti, I understand from Mr. Pink,' she continued.

'I beg your pardon? Oh, Cincinatti! No, from Chicago, Lady Bandobust.'

'I understood from Mr. Pink that you came from Chinchinnatti—the place where people make millions in tinned pork. I had a nephew there for seven years, so I ought to know something about it,' said Lady Bandobust, with some asperity. 'But if you say you are from Chickago, I have no doubt you are right.'