sister's ejaculations and rhapsodies.

"You know my enjoyment of England is not so intellectual as Bessie's," she
said to several of her friends in the course of her visit to this country.
"And yet if it is not intellectual, I can't say it is physical.
I don't think I can quite say what it is, my enjoyment of England."
When once it was settled that the two ladies should come abroad and should
spend a few weeks in England on their way to the Continent, they of course
exchanged a good many allusions to their London acquaintance.

"It will certainly be much nicer having friends there,"
Bessie Alden had said one day as she sat on the sunny deck
of the steamer at her sister's feet on a large blue rug.

"Whom do you mean by friends?" Mrs. Westgate asked.

"All those English gentlemen whom you have known and entertained.
Captain Littledale, for instance. And Lord Lambeth and Mr. Beaumont,"
added Bessie Alden.

"Do you expect them to give us a very grand reception?"

Bessie reflected a moment; she was addicted, as we know,
to reflection. "Well, yes."

"My poor, sweet child," murmured her sister.

"What have I said that is so silly?" asked Bessie.

"You are a little too simple; just a little. It is very becoming,