s called.

I had been thinking such kindly things of England--Mr. Balfour fighting
for general education; Mr. Gladstone struggling to make England push
Turkey back and save Greece; all England raising money for the fire
sufferers of Paris and the Indian famine. What a humanitarian race they
were! I felt as pro-England as any of the satellites in that room, and
almost as much awed. But back of it all was a natural United States
be-natural-as-you-were-born impulse. Neither Back Bay Boston nor Tom's
Philadelphia friends had been able to repress it. When my name was
called and I stepped up, I made the little bow I had practised for hours
the day before and that morning; and then, as I looked into the eyes of
the queen, I held out my hand! It was the instinctive action of a
free-born American.

I have realized in the years since what a real queen she was. Smiling,
she extended her hand--but not to be touched. It was a little wave, a
little imitation of my own impulsive outstretching to a friend; then her
eyes went to the next person, and I was on my way, having been presented
at court and done what "is not done" in England.

Tom's mission in England was important. He had friends, and there were
distinguished people in England who regarded him and his family of
sufficient value to "take us aboard." They were most gracious and
kindly. But Tom's eyes were not smiling.

That night my husband said some very frank things to me. His position,
and even the credit of our country to some extent, depended upon our
conduct. He did not say he was ashamed of me, and in my heart I do not
think he was; but he regretted that I had not been trained in the little
things upon which England put so much weight. He suggested my employing
a social secretary.

"What I need, Tom," I said, "is a teacher. You have told me these
customs are not important. They are important. I need some one to
teach them to me, and I propose to get a teacher."

In the personal columns of the Times I had read this advertisement:

'A lady of aristocratic birth and social training
desires to be of service to a good-paying guest.'

I swallowed my pride and answered it. I was not her paying guest, but I
employed this Scotch lady of aristocratic birth and social experience.

On the first day at luncheon, which we ate privately in my apartment,
she said: "In England a knife is held as you hold a pen, the handle
coming up above