ubtless would have been amused and Dick very
probably angry. How nonsensical she must appear marching along in such a
company!

CHAPTER VIII

Other Scenes

A taxicab was driving slowly down Regent Street in the neighborhood of
Piccadilly Circus in London with a woman and a girl inside it. The woman
leaned back in a relaxed position with her eyes not on the scene about
her, but on the face of the girl. For she was sitting upright with her
hands clasped tight together in her lap, her eyes sparkling and her
cheeks glowing.

It was nearly six o'clock in the afternoon, the hour when English
people, having just finished their "afternoon tea," were returning to
their homes, so that the streets were crowded with fashionably dressed
men and women. And to the girl in the cab they were entirely absorbing
and interesting. For whatever the closeness of their relation, American
and English people when seen in any numbers are strikingly different in
their appearance. The English are taller and fairer, the men better
dressed than the women, and with less energy and less grace than
Americans. And to a young girl's eyes there were also hundreds of other
details of unlikeness and of fascination that older persons possibly
might not have noticed. Besides there was the spectacle of big,
beautiful, gray old London itself!

"Is there any other place on earth quite so wonderful?" Polly O'Neill
queried, turning to glance shyly into the face of the woman beside her.
"I feel that I should like to do nothing else for the rest of my life
but just sit here in this cab and drive about Piccadilly."

Miss Adams smiled. For Polly's exaggerations, that oftentimes annoyed
other people, merely amused her. Thus far, and they had been away for a
number of weeks, the great lady had not repented her invitation to the
girl to be her guest in Europe during the summer. For some reason she
had taken an odd fancy to Polly. Moreover, she was weary of her usual
summer amusements, wishing to enjoy life through younger eyes than her
own. And the special value of Polly O'Neill as a companion was that
with her ardent Irish temperament she could see and feel more in half an
hour than many persons do in half a life time.

Now, however, with her swift vision of her companion's expression, the
girl's altered. "You are tired," she murmured, with one of her quick
changes of mood and of opinion, "and I am sure that I have seen all I
wish to this afternoon. Don'