LONDON.
Mrs. Copley did not like London. So she declared after a stay of some months had given her, as she supposed, an opportunity of judging. The house they inhabited was not in a sufficiently fashionable quarter, she complained; and society did not seem to open its doors readily to the new American consul.
"I suppose, mother, we have not been here long enough. People do not know us."
"What do you call 'long enough'?" said Mrs. Copley with sharp emphasis. "And how are people to know us, if they do not come to see us? When people are strangers, is the very time to go and make their acquaintance; I should say."
"English nature likes to know people before it makes their acquaintance," Mr. Copley remarked. "I do not think you have any cause to find fault."
"No; you have all you want in the way of society, and you have no notion how it is with me. That is men's way. And what do you expect to do with Dolly, shut up in this smoky old street? You might think of Dolly."
"Dolly, dear," said her father, "are you getting smoked out, like your mother? Do you want to go with me and see the Bank of England to-day?"
Dolly made a joyful spring to kiss her thanks, and then flew off to get ready; but stopped at the door.
"Won't you go too, mother?"
"And tire myself to death? No, thank you, Dolly. I am not so young as I was once."