asking me to lunch with him the next day at the Cafe Royal in order to
meet Mr. Ralph Pulitzer, who was passing through London on his way back
to America after a visit to his father.

I leave my readers to imagine what sort of a lunch I had in the company
of two gentlemen whose duty it was to struggle with the problem of
discovering the real character and attainments of a guest who knew he
was under inspection.

I found Mr. Ralph Pulitzer to be a slender, clean-cut, pale gentleman of
an extremely quiet and self-possessed manner. He was very agreeable, and
he listened to my torrent of words with an interest which, if it were
real, reflected great credit on me, and which, if it were feigned,
reflected not less credit on him.

As we parted he said, "I shall write to my father to-day and tell him of
our meeting. Of course, as you know, the decision in this matter rests
entirely with him."

After this incident there was another long silence, and I again fixed
upon a day beyond which I would not allow my hopes to flourish. The day
arrived, nothing happened, and the next morning I went down to the
offices of the West India Royal Mail Steam Packet Company and made
inquiries about the boats for Barbados. I spent the afternoon at my club
making out a list of things to be taken out as aids to comfortable
housekeeping in a semi-tropical country--a list which swelled amazingly
as I turned over the fascinating pages of the Army and Navy Stores
Catalogue.

By dinner time I had become more than reconciled to the new turn of