"Whatever was it, ma'am, that lady did which brings so many h'Americans
to h'ask about her? Our h'English people don't seem to take the same
h'interest."

"She wrote such delightful stories," explained Katy; but the old verger
shook his head.

"I think h'it must be some other party, Miss, you've confused with this
here. It stands to reason, Miss, that we'd have heard of 'em h'over 'ere
in England sooner than you would h'over there in h'America, if the books
'ad been h'anything so h'extraordinary."

The night after their return to London they were dining for the second
time with the cousins of whom Mrs. Ashe had spoken to Dr. Carr; and as
it happened Katy sat next to a quaint elderly American, who had lived
for twenty years in London and knew it much better than most Londoners
do. This gentleman, Mr. Allen Beach, had a hobby for antiquities, old
books especially, and passed half his time at the British Museum, and
the other half in sales rooms and the old shops in Wardour Street.

Katy was lamenting over the bad weather which stood in the way of
their plans.

"It is so vexatious," she said. "Mrs. Ashe meant to go to York and
Lincoln and all the cathedral towns and to Scotland; and we have had to
give it all up because of the rains. We shall go away having seen hardly
anything."

"You can see London."