Philadelphia Evershams of whom he had heard his mother speak, and
regretted that they were not, for then they would know who he
was--William B. Hill of Alatoona, New York. He found it rather
stupid traveling alone. Of course one met many Americans, but----

Mrs. Eversham took up that "but" most eagerly, and recounted
multiple and deplorable instances of nasal countrywomen doing the
East and monopolizing the window seats in compartments, and Miss
Eversham supplied details and corrections.

Still Miss Beecher said nothing. She had a dreamy air of not
belonging to the conversationalists. But from an inscrutable
something in her appearance, Billy judged she was not unentertained
by his sufferings.

At the first pause he addressed her directly. "And how do you like
Cairo?" was his simple question. That ought, he reflected, to be an
entering wedge.

The young lady did not trouble to raise her eyes. "Oh, very much,"
said she negligently, sipping her coffee.

"Oh, very well!" said Billy haughtily to himself. If being her
fellow countryman in a strange land, and obviously a young and
cultivated countryman whom it would be a profit and pleasure for any
girl to know, wasn't enough for her--what was the use? He ought to
get up and go away. He intended to get up and go away--immediately.

But he didn't. Perhaps it was the shimmery gold hair, perhaps it was
the flickering mischief of the downcast lashes, perhaps it was the