that, too, when he was handing a buttered
muffin to an earl's daughter?

It was while we were paying a visit at Marjorimallow Hall, Sir Owen
and Lady Marjorimallow's place in Surrey. This was to be our first
appearance in an English country house, and we made elaborate
preparations. Only our freshest toilettes were packed, and these were
arranged in our trunks with the sole view of impressing the lady's-maid
who should unpack them. We each purchased dressing-cases and new
fittings, Francesca's being of sterling silver, Salemina's of triple
plate, and mine of celluloid, as befitted our several fortunes. Salemina
read up on English politics; Francesca practised a new way of dressing
her hair; and I made up a portfolio of sketches. We counted, therefore,
on representing American letters, beauty, and art to that portion of the
great English public staying at Marjorimallow Hall. (I must interject a
parenthesis here to the effect that matters did not move precisely as we
expected; for at table, where most of our time was passed, Francesca had
for a neighbour a scientist, who asked her plump whether the religion
of the American Indian was or was not a pure theism; Salemina's partner
objected to the word 'politics' in the mouth of a woman; while my
attendant squire adored a good bright-coloured chromo. But this is
anticipating.)

Three days before our departure, I remarked at the breakfast-table,
Dawson being absent: "My dear girls, you are aware that we have ordered
fried eggs, scrambled eggs, buttered eggs, and poached eggs ever since
we came to Dovermarle Street, simply because we do not know how to eat
boiled eggs prettily from the shell, English fashion, and cannot break
them into a cup or a glass, American fashion, on account of the effect
upon Dawson. Now there will certainly be boiled eggs at Marjorimallow
Hall, and we cannot refuse them morning after morning; it will be
cowardly (which is unpleasant), and it will be remarked (which is
worse). Eating them minced in an egg-cup, in a baronial hall, with the
remains of a drawbridge in the grounds, is equally impossible; if we do
that, Lady Marjorimallow will be having our luggage examined, to see
if we carry wigwams and war-whoops about with us. No, it is clearly
necessary that we master the gentle art of eating eggs tidily and
daintily from the shell. I have seen English women--very dull ones,
too--do it without apparent effort; I have even seen an English infant
do it,