Lord Keynes, you look as if America agreed with you, and I see they have been interviewing you already. Well, that's our way here. Why, when Reginald Armstrong gave his equestrian party down at Port Washington last week, I assure you there was a string of our newspaper men a quarter of a mile long waiting to see him.'
The curious shrillness of talk peculiar to America sounded loud in the restaurant as they made their sidling way by crowded tables toward one of the windows looking on the street.
' Equestrian party?' asked Mrs. Massington. ' What is that?'
' Tell them, Reginald,' said Mrs. Palmer. ' Why, it tickled me to death, your equestrian party. Mrs. Massington, those are blue points. You must eat them. Tell them, Reginald.'
' Well, my stable was burned down last fall,' said he, ' and I've been building a new one. So I determined to open it in some kind of characteristic way.'
' His own idea,' said Mrs. Palmer in a loud aside to Bertie. ' He's one of our brightest young men; you'll see a lot of him.'
' So I thought,' continued Mr. Armstrong, ' that I'd give a stable party—make everyone dress as grooms. But then the ladies objected to dressing as grooms. I'm sure I don't know why. I should have thought they'd have liked to show their figures. But some objected. Mrs. Palmer objected. I don't know why she objected—looking at her—but she did object.'
Mrs. Palmer smiled.
' Isn't he lovely?' she said loudly across the table to Mrs. Massington.
' Well, she objected,' again continued Mr. Armstrong; ' and when Mrs. Palmer objects, she objects. She said she wouldn't come. So I had to think of something
