ed with the sound of a Boosters' luncheon.

Sir Gerald's room was, except for his ponderous and durable English
bags, very much like the room of George F. Babbitt; and quite in the
manner of Babbitt he disclosed a huge whisky flask, looked proud and
hospitable, and chuckled, "Say, when, old chap."

It was after the third drink that Sir Gerald proclaimed, "How do you
Yankees get the notion that writing chaps like Bertrand Shaw and this
Wells represent us? The real business England, we think those chaps are
traitors. Both our countries have their comic Old Aristocracy--you know,
old county families, hunting people and all that sort of thing--and we
both have our wretched labor leaders, but we both have a backbone of
sound business men who run the whole show."

"You bet. Here's to the real guys!"

"I'm with you! Here's to ourselves!"

It was after the fourth drink that Sir Gerald asked humbly, "What do you
think of North Dakota mortgages?" but it was not till after the fifth
that Babbitt began to call him "Jerry," and Sir Gerald confided, "I
say, do you mind if I pull off my boots?" and ecstatically stretched his
knightly feet, his poor, tired, hot, swollen feet out on the bed.

After the sixth, Babbitt irregularly arose. "Well, I better be hiking
along. Jerry, you're a regular human being! I wish to thunder we'd been
better acquainted in Zenith. Lookit. Can't you come back and stay with
me a while?"

"So sorry--must go to New York to-morrow. Most awfully sorry, old boy.
I haven't enjoyed an evening so much since I've been in the States.
Real talk. Not all this social rot. I'd never have let them give me the
beastly title--and I didn't get it for nothing, eh?--if I'd thought I'd
have to talk to women about primitives and polo! Goodish thing to have
in Nottingham, though; annoyed the mayor most frightfully when I got it;
and of course the missus likes it. But nobody calls me 'Jerry' now--"
He was almost weeping. "--and nobody in the States has treated me like a
friend till to-night! Good-by, old chap, good-by! Thanks awfully!"

"Don't mention it, Jerry. And remember whenever you get to Zenith, the
latch-string is always out."

"And don't forget, old boy, if you ever come to Nottingham, Mother and
I will be frightfully glad to see you. I shall tell the fellows in
Nottingham your ideas about Visions and Real Guys--at our next Rotary
Club luncheon."

IV

Babbitt lay abed at his hotel, imagining the Zenith Athlet