was to be, the duke or the lieutenant. And I couldn't tell from
her question whether she was referring to Arctic or matrimonial
expeditions. So I gave an answer that would cover both cases.

"'Well, ma'am,' says I, 'it was a freeze out--right smart of a freeze
out, ma'am.'

"And then the flood gates of Andy's perorations was opened and I knew
which one of the renowned ostensible guests I was supposed to be. I
wasn't either. Andy was both. And still furthermore it seemed that
he was trying to be the mouthpiece of the whole British nobility and
of Arctic exploration from Sir John Franklin down. It was the union
of corn whiskey and the conscientious fictional form that Mr. W. D.
Howletts admires so much.

"'Ladies,' says Andy, smiling semicircularly, 'I am truly glad to
visit America. I do not consider the magna charta,' says he, 'or gas
balloons or snow-shoes in any way a detriment to the beauty and charm
of your American women, skyscrapers or the architecture of your
icebergs. The next time,' says Andy, 'that I go after the North Pole
all the Vanderbilts in Greenland won't be able to turn me out in the
cold--I mean make it hot for me.'

"'Tell us about one of your trips, Lieutenant,' says one of the
normals.

"'Sure,' says Andy, getting the decision over a hiccup. 'It was in
the spring of last year that I sailed the Castle of Blenheim up to
latitude 87 degrees Fahrenheit and beat the record. Ladies,' says
Andy, 'it was a sad sight to see a Duke allied by a civil and