“That’s right—that’s right! Tell you how I feel about it, mother.” Elmer patted her hand. “We’re Americans, and while it’s a fine thing to go abroad maybe once or twice—there’s nothing so broadening as travel, is there!—still, in America we’ve got a standard of decency and efficiency that these poor old European countries don’t know anything about, and in the long run the good old U.S.A. is the place where you’ll find your greatest happiness—especially for folks like us, that aren’t any blooming millionaires that can grab off a lot of castles and those kind of things and have a raft of butlers. You bet! Well, just holler when I can be of any service to you. So long, folks! Got to do my three miles!”
When he was gone, the little, delicate old lady said to her husband:
“Fabian, if that swine ever speaks to me again, I shall jump overboard! He’s almost the most offensive object I have ever encountered! Dear—How many times have we crossed now?”
“Oh, I’ve lost track. It was a hundred and ten two years ago.”
“Not more?”
“Darling, don’t be so snooty.”
“But isn’t there a law that permits one to kill people who call you ‘Mother’?”
“Darling, the Duke calls you that!”
“I know. He does. That’s what I hate about him! Sweet, do you think fresh air is worth the penalty of being called ‘Mother’? The next time this animal stops, he’ll call you ‘Father’!”
“Only once, my dear!”
VIII
Elmer considered, “Well, I’ve given those poor old birds some cheerfulness to go on with. By golly, there’s nothing more important than to give people some happiness and faith to cheer them along life’s dark pathway.”
He was passing the veranda café. At a pale green table was a man who sat next to Elmer in the dining salon. With him were three men unknown, and each had a whisky-and-soda in front of him.
“Well, I see you’re keeping your strength up!” Elmer said forgivingly.
“Sure, you betcha,” said his friend of the salon. “Don’t you wanta sit down and have a jolt with us?”
Elmer sat, and when the steward stood at ruddy British attention, he gave voice:
“Well, of course, being a preacher, I’m not a big husky athalete like you boys, so all I can stand is just a ginger ale.” To the steward: “Do you keep anything like that, buddy, or have you only got hooch for big strong men?”
When Elmer explained to the purser that he would be willing to act as chairman of the concert, with the most perspiratory regret the purser said that the Rt. Hon. Lionel Smith had, unfortunately, already been invited to take the chair.
IX
Cleo had not been more obnoxiously colorless than usual, but she had been seasick, and Elmer saw that it had been an error to bring her along. He had not talked to her an hour all the way. There had been so many interesting and broadening contacts; the man from China, who gave him enough ideas for a dozen missionary sermons; the professor from Higgins Presbyterian Institute, who explained that no really up-to-date scientist accepted evolution; the pretty journalist lady who needed consolation.
But now, alone with Cleo in the compartment of a train from Liverpool to London, Elmer made up for what she might have considered neglect by explaining the difficult aspects of a foreign country:
“Heh! English certainly are behind the times! Think of having these dingy coops instead of a Pullman car, so you can see your fellow-passengers and get acquainted. Just goes to show the way this country is still riddled with caste.
“Don’t think so much of these towns. Kind of pretty, cottages with vines and all that, but you don’t get any feeling that they’re up and coming and forward-looking, like American burgs. I tell you there’s one thing—and don’t know’s I’ve ever seen anybody bring this out—I might make a sermon out of it—one of the big advantages of foreign travel is, it makes you a lot more satisfied with being an American!
“Here we are, coming into London, I guess. Cer’nly is smoky, isn’t it.
“Well, by golly, so this is what they call a depot in London! Well, I don’t think much of it! Just look at all those dinky little trains. Why, say, an American engineer would be ashamed to take advantage of child-sized trains like them! And no marble anywhere in the depot!”
X
The page who took their bags up to their room in the Savoy was a brisk and smiling boy with fabulous pink cheeks.
“Say, buddy,” said the Rev. Dr. Gantry, “what do you pull down here?”
“Sorry, sir, I don’t think I quite understand, sir.”
“Whadda you make? How much do they pay you?”
“Oh. Oh, they pay me very decently, sir. Is there anything else I can do, sir? Thank you, sir.”
When the page was gone, Elmer complained, “Yuh, fine friendly kid that bellboy, is, and can’t hardly understand the English language! Well, I’m glad we’re seeing the Old Country, but if folks aren’t going to be any friendlier than he is, I see where we’ll be mighty darn glad to get back. Why, say, if he’d of been an American bellboy, we’d of jawed along for an hour, and I’d of learned something. Well, come on, come on! Get your hat on, and let’s go out and give the town the once-over.”
They walked along the Strand.
“Say,” Elmer said portentously, “do you notice that? The cops got straps under their chins! Well, well, that certainly is different!”
“Yes, isn’t it!” said Cleo.
“But I don’t think so much of this street. I always heard it was a famous one, but these stores—why, say, we got a dozen streets in Zenith, say nothing of N’ York, that got better stores. No git up and git to these foreigners. Certainly does make a fellow glad he’s an American!”
They came, after exploring Swan & Edgar’s, to St. James’s Palace.
“Now,” said Elmer
