“But I don’t think so much of this street. I always heard it was a famous one, but these stores—why, say, we got a dozen streets in Zenith, say nothing of N’ York, that got better stores. No git up and git to these foreigners. Certainly does make a fellow glad he’s an American!”
They came, after exploring Swan & Edgar’s, to St. James’s Palace.
“Now,” said Elmer knowingly, “that certainly is an ancient site. Wonder what it is? Some kind of a castle, I guess.”
To a passing policeman: “Say, excuse me, Cap’n, but could you tell me what that brick building is?”
“St. James’s Palace, sir. You’re an American? The Prince of Wales lives there, sir.”
“Is that a fact! D’you hear that, Cleo? Well, sir, that’s certainly something to remember!”
XI
When he regarded the meager audience at Brompton Road Chapel, Elmer had an inspiration.
All the way over he had planned to be poetic in his first London sermon. He was going to say that it was the strong man, the knight in armor, who was most willing to humble himself before God; and to say also that Love was the bow on life’s dark cloud, and the morning and evening star, both. But in a second of genius he cast it away, and reflected, “No! What they want is a good, pioneering, roughneck American!”
And that he was, splendidly.