almost to
the breaking point. An hour went by and nothing was heard from Page;
another hour slowly passed and still the Ambassador did not return. The
faces of the assembled staff lengthened as the minutes went by; what was
the Ambassador doing at the Foreign Office? So protracted an interview
could portend only evil; already, in the minds of these nervous young
men, ultimatums were flying between the United States and Great Britain,
and even war might be hanging in the balance. Another hour drew out its
weary length; the room became dark, dinner time was approaching, and
still Page failed to make his appearance. At last, when his distracted
subordinates were almost prepared to go in search of their chief, the
Ambassador walked jauntily in, smiling and apparently carefree. What had
happened? What was to be done about the detained ships?

"What ships?" asked Page, and then suddenly he remembered. "Oh,
yes--those." That was all right; Sir Edward had at once promised to
release them; it had all been settled in a few minutes.

"Then why were you so long?"

The truth came out: Sir Edward and Page had quickly turned from
intercepted cargoes to the more congenial subject of Wordsworth,
Tennyson, and other favourite poets, and the rest of the afternoon had
been consumed in discussing this really important business.

Perhaps Page was not so great a story-teller as many Americans, but he
excelled in a type of yarn that especially delights Englishmen, for it
is the kind that is native to the American soil. He possessed an
inexhaustible stock of Negro anecdotes, and he had the gift of bringing
them out at precisely the right point. There was one which the
Archbishop of York never tired of repeating. Soon after America entered
the war, the Archbishop asked Page how long his country was "in for."
"I can best answer that by telling you a story," said Page. "There were
two Negroes who had just been sentenced to prison terms. As they were
being taken away in the carriage placed at their disposal by the United
States Government, one said to the other, 'Sam, how long is you in fo'?'
'I guess dat it's a yeah or two yeahs,' said Sam. 'How long is you in
fo'?' 'I guess it's from now on,' said the other darky." "From now on,"
remarked the Archbishop, telling this story. "What could more eloquently
have described America's attitude toward the war?"

The mention of the Archbishop suggests another of Page's talents--the
aptness of his lett