know them; he hardly knew anybody, even by sight. But Mr. Ridding
did. That is, he knew them well by sight and had carefully avoided
knowing them any other way, for they were Germans.

Mr. Ridding was one of those who didn't like Germans. He was a man who
liked or disliked what his daily paper told him to, and his daily paper
was anti-German. For reasons natural to one who disliked Germans and yet
at the same time had a thirstily affectionate disposition, he declined
to believe the prevailing theory about the Twinklers. Besides, he didn't
believe it anyhow. At that age people were truthful, and he had heard
them explain they had come from England and had acquired their rolling
r's during a sojourn abroad. Why should he doubt? But he refrained from
declaring his belief in their innocence of the unpopular nationality,
owing to a desire to avoid trouble in that bedroom he couldn't call his
but was obliged so humiliatingly to speak of as ours. Except, however,
for the Twinklers, for all other persons of whom it was said that they
were Germans, naturalized or not, immediate or remote, he had,
instructed by his newspaper, what his called a healthy instinctive
abhorrence.

"And she's got it too," he thought, much gratified at this bond between
them, as he noted Anna-Felicitas's hesitating and reluctant advance to
meet the new guests. "There's proof that people are wrong."

But what Anna-Felicitas had got was stage-fright; for here were the
first strangers, the first real, proper visitors such as any shop or
hotel might have. Mr. Ridding was a friend. So were the experts friends.
This was trade coming in,--real business being done. Anna-Felicitas
hadn't supposed she would be shy when the long-expected and prepared-for
moment arrived, but she was. And it was because the guests seemed so
disconcertingly pleased to see her. Even on the threshold the whole
three stood smiling broadly at her. She hadn't been prepared for that,
and it unnerved her.

"Charming, charming," said the newcomers, advancing towards her and
embracing the room and the tables and the Annas in one immense inclusive
smile of appreciation.

"Know those?" asked Mr. Ridding, again cutting into Mr. Twist's
explanations.

"No," said he.

"Wangelbeckers," said Mr. Ridding briefly.

"Indeed," said Mr. Twist, off whose ignorance the name glanced
harmlessly. "Well, as I was telling yous--"

"But this is delicious--this is a conception of genius," said Mr.
Wan