Lord Lambeth thought he looked tremendously clever.

‘‘How do you do, Lord Lambeth—how do you do, sir?’’ he said, holding the open letter in his hand. ‘‘I’m very glad to see you; I hope you’re very well. You had better come in here; I think it’s cooler,’’ and he led the way into another room, where there were law books and papers, and windows wide open beneath striped awnings. Just opposite one of the windows, on a line with his eyes, Lord Lambeth observed the weathervane of a church steeple. The uproar of the street sounded infinitely far below, and Lord Lambeth felt very high in the air. ‘‘I say it’s cooler,’’ pursued their host, ‘‘but everything is relative. How do you stand the heat?’’

‘‘I can’t say we like it,’’ said Lord Lambeth; ‘‘but Beaumont likes it better than I.’’

‘‘Well, it won’t last,’’ Mr. Westgate very cheerfully declared; ‘‘nothing unpleasant lasts over here. It was very hot when Captain Littledale was here; he did nothing but drink sherry cobblers. He expressed some doubt in his letter whether I will remember him—as if I didn’t remember making six sherry cobblers for him one day in about twenty minutes. I hope you left him well, two years having elapsed since then.’’

‘‘Oh, yes, he’s all right,’’ said Lord Lambeth.

‘‘I am always very glad to see your countrymen,’’ Mr. Westgate pursued. ‘‘I thought it would be time some of you should be coming along. A friend of mine was sayingto me only a day or two ago, ‘It’s time for the watermelons and the Englishmen.’ ’’

‘‘The Englishmen and the watermelons just now are about the same thing,’’ Percy Beaumont observed, wiping his dripping forehead.

‘‘Ah, well, we’ll put you on ice, as we do the melons. You must go down to Newport.’’

‘‘We’ll go anywhere,’’ said Lord Lambeth.

‘‘Yes, you want to go to Newport; that’s what you want to do,’’ Mr. Westgate affirmed. ‘‘But let’s see— when did you get here?’’

‘‘Only yesterday,’’ said Percy Beaumont.

‘‘Ah, yes, by the Russia. Where are you staying?’’

‘‘At the Hanover, I think they call it.’’

‘‘Pretty comfortable?’’ inquired Mr. Westgate.

‘‘It seems a capital place, but I can’t say we like the gnats,’’ said Lord Lambeth.

Mr. Westgate stared and laughed. ‘‘Oh, no, of course you don’t like the gnats. We shall expect you to like a good many things over here, but we shan’t insist upon your liking the gnats; though certainly you’ll admit that, as gnats, they are fine, eh? But you oughtn’t to remain in the city.’’

‘‘So we think,’’ said Lord Lambeth. ‘‘If you would kindly suggest something——’’

‘‘Suggest something, my dear sir?’’ and Mr. Westgate looked at him, narrowing his eyelids. ‘‘Open your mouth and shut your eyes! Leave it to me, and I’ll put you through. It’s a matter of national pride with me that all Englishmen should have a good time; and as I have had considerable practice, I have learned to minister to their wants. I find they generally want the right thing. So just please to consider yourselves my property; and if anyone should try to appropriate you, please to say, ‘Hands off; too late for the market.’ But let’s see,’’ continued the American, in his slow, humorous voice, with a distinctness of utterance which appeared to his visitors to be part of a humorous intention—a strangely leisurely, speculative voice for a man evidently so busy and, as they felt, so professional—‘‘let’s see; are you going to make something of a stay, Lord Lambeth?’’

‘‘Oh, dear, no,’’ said the young Englishman; ‘‘my cousin was coming over on some business, so I just came across, at an hour’s notice, for the lark.’’

‘‘Is it your first visit to the United States?’’

‘‘Oh, dear, yes.’’

‘‘I was obliged to come on some business,’’ said Percy Beaumont, ‘‘and I brought Lambeth along.’’

‘‘And you have been here before, sir?’’

‘‘Never—never.’’

‘‘I thought, from your referring to business——’’ said Mr. Westgate.

‘‘Oh, you see I’m by way of being a barrister,’’ Percy Beaumont answered. ‘‘I know some people that think of bringing a suit against one of your railways, and they asked me to come over and take measures accordingly.’’

Mr.