complicated life would become for these "gentlemen of England now abed" if they had to carry crates of oranges, drums of figs, and pounds of candies to every casual young woman whose acquaintance they enjoyed.
"You don't say!" said Miss America. "And don't they take you out driving in their buggies?"
"Never," I replied firmly. "They haven't got them."
"You don't say! And how does a young gentleman show he admires you?"
"Well, he doesn't as a rule," I murmured feebly.
"I guess," she said, "we manage things better in America." And, indeed, perhaps they do.
This conversation so exhausted us that we fell very sound asleep, and knew nothing till we arrived at the station where we had to get out and change into the ferry-boat. Then there was a terrible scurry. The servants waiting to pack up the bedding and strap bags—they said they had wakened us at the previous station, but they must have wakened someone else instead—while we threw on various articles of clothing, stuck hats on undone hair, and feet into unlaced shoes, all the while, like a Greek chorus, the "Mommer" moaning reproachfully, "Oh, Ali, you might have woke
