"Ah!" ejaculated my English neighbor, "this is not equal to the bear I shot, Miss Dorris."
"Asparagus?" I cried, as another dish was passed to me. "At this season? In Russia?"
"Asparagus is never so good," quoth George, "as when it is out of season."
"You people," interrupted Tom, "talk of nothing but eating. I will tell you one thing," he continued, in a confidential tone, to any one who would listen to him, "this is the first dry champagne I have had in this country."
"I brought it with me," Mr. Thurber whispered in my ear. "You will notice that the Russians all prefer the sweet, except perhaps your neighbor."
To my surprise, however, George drank nothing except claret and water. He made a few efforts to open a conversation with Judith, but she did not respond as readily as usual, and he gave her up. Not a shade of annoyance appeared on his face; on the contrary he was particularly genial, and devoted himself to Mr. Thurber and me with apparent pleasure. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly at that end of the table.
Coming home was the most delightful part of the excursion, however, although we were not so boisterous as on the way out. Madame Kirovieff and I rode backwards, giving the three gentlemen the other seat; for in that way we avoided having the wind in our faces. Poor Tom was put in the middle, and was nearly squeezed into nothing.
The horse on my side got his leg over the trace, and
