ETHEL [smiling]. But isn't it good that the pater "made his pile," as
the Americans say, and let us come over here when we were young to find
the nobler things, Hoddy--the _nobler_ things!

HORACE. The nobler things--the nobler things, sis. When old Hawcastle
dies I'll be saying, quite off-hand, you know, "My sister, the Countess
of Hawcastle--"

ETHEL [thoughtfully]. You don't suppose that father's friend, my
guardian, this old Mr. Pike, will be--will be QUEER, do you?

HORACE. Well, the governor himself was rather _raw_, you know. This is
probably a harmless enough old chap--easy to handle--

ETHEL. I wish I knew. I shouldn't like Almeric's family to think we had
queer connections of any sort--and he might turn out to be quite
shockingly American [with genuine pathos]. I--I couldn't bear it, Hoddy.

HORACE. Then keep him out of the way. That's simple enough. None of
them, except the solicitor, need see him.

[Instantly upon this there is a tremendous though distant commotion
beyond the hotel--wild laughter and cheers, the tarantella played by
mandolins and guitars, also sung, shouts of "Bravo Americano!" and
"Yanka Dooda!" The noise continues and increases gradually.]

ETHEL [as the uproar begins]. What is that?

HORACE. Must be a mob.