d Dale, with boisterous good-humor. "Hand him
out a cokernut. But may I ask how you guessed my place of origin so
pat?"

"Well, sir. I don't know, sir. Haven't had you here before, I think."

"Oh, you're very clever, you Londoners. I don't doubt you can all see
through a brick wall. Yes, I'm from the country--but I'm beginning to
know my way about the town too. Ever bin on a steamboat to Rodhaven?"

"Rodhaven? No, sir."

Then Dale told the waiter about the heaths and downs and woods that
lie between Rodhaven and Old Manninglea.

"Prettiest part of the world that I know of," he said proudly. "You
spend your next holiday there. Take the four-horse sharrybank from
Rodhaven pier--and when you get to the Roebuck at Rodchurch, you get
off of the vehicle and ask for the Postmaster."

"Yes, sir?"

"He won't eat you," and Dale laughed with intense enjoyment of his
humor. "He's not a bad chap really, though his neighbors say he's a
bit of a Tartar. I give you my word he'll receive you, decently, and
stand you dinner into the bargain. I know he will--and for why?
Because I am that gentleman myself."

He could not resist the pleasure of rounding off his sentence with the
grand word "Gentleman," and he was gratified by the waiter's meekly
obsequious reception of the word.

"Thank you, sir. Much obliged, sir."

When leaving, he gave the waiter a generous tip.

To-day his walk through the gaily-crowded streets was sweet to him as
a lazy truant ramble in the woods during church-time. Everything that
he looked at delighted him--the richness of shop-windows, showing all
the expensive useless goods that no sensible person ever wants; the
liveries worn by pampered servants standing at carriage wheels; the
glossy coats of mettlesome, prancing horses; the extravagant dresses
of fine ladies mincingly walking on the common public pavement; the
stolid grandeur of huge policemen, and the infinite audacity of small
newspaper boys; the life, the color, the noise. It seemed as if the
busy city and the pleasure-loving West-end alike unfolded themselves
as a panorama especially arranged for one's amusement; and his
satisfaction was so great that it mutely expressed itself in words
which he would have been quite willing to shout aloud. Such as:
"Bravo, London! You aren't a bad little place when one gets to know
you. There's more in you than meets the eye, first view."

And because he was so happy himself, he could sympathize with the
h