"I must thank you for your good nature," I said to the young lady.

"Are you a typical American?" she asked. "Oh, so-so," I returned.
"There are heaps like me in New York."

"And do they all do this on the Fourth of July?" she asked.

"Every last one!" I said.

"Fancy!" she said.

"In America," I said, "when a man has received one favour he is
certain to make it the stepping-stone for another. Won't you
permit me to walk across the park to Castle Fyles?"

"Castle Fyles?" she repeated, with a little note of curiosity in
her girlish voice. "Then don't you know that this is Fyles Park?"

"Can't say I did," I returned. "But I am delighted to hear it."

"Why are you delighted to hear it?" she asked, making me feel more
than ever like an escaped lunatic.

"This is the home of my ancestors," I said, "and it makes me glad
to think they amount to something--own real estate--and keep their
venerable heads above water."

"So this is the home of your ancestors," she said.