selves. Dear me! I'm glad Judy can't hear me. Oh, there's Ginger! Ginger, come here!'
Ginger came (probably because he had red hair). He wore a Panama hat, and looked tired. He might have been eighteen or thirty, and was twenty-four, and Bertie's younger brother, his less-used name being Lord Henry Scarton. He sat down suddenly on the grass, took off the Panama hat, and prepared himself to be agreeable.
' There is a Sabbath peace about,' said he; ' that always makes me feel energetic. The feeling of energy passes completely away on Monday morning, and it and I are strangers till the ensuing Sunday. Then we meet. But now it is here, I think I shall go to church. There is a church, isn't there? Come to church, Bertie.'
' No,' said Bertie.
' That is always the way,' remarked Ginger; ' and it is the same with me. I never want to do what anybody else proposes; so don't propose to me, Sybil.'
' Ginger, why don't you do something?' asked Sybil.
' I will go to church,' said Ginger.
' No, you won't. I want you to tell Bertie and me about America. You haven't been there, have you?'
' No. The capital is New York,' said Ginger; ' and you are sick before you get there. When you get there, you are sick again. Then you come back. That is why I haven't been. Next question, please.'
' Why is Bertie going, then?' she asked.
' Because—because he is Bertie instead of me.'
' And why am I going, then?'
' Because you are not Judy. And you are both going there because you are both progressive English people.'
Ginger got up, and stood in front of them.
' All people who on earth do dwell,' said he, ' go to America if they want to dwell—really dwell—on earth. If you want to have all material things at your command
