mous horse-chestnuts were in blossom, and Lord Lambeth, who quite entered into the spirit of the cockney excursionist, declared that it was a jolly old place. Bessie Alden was in ecstasies; she went about murmuring and exclaiming.
"It's too lovely," said the young girl; "it's too enchanting; it's too exactly what it ought to be!" At Hampton Court the little flocks of visitors are not provided with an official bell-wether, but are left to browse at discretion upon the local antiquities. It happened in this manner that, in default of another informant, Bessie Alden, who on doubtful questions was able to suggest a great many alternatives, found herself again applying for intellectual assistance to Lord Lambeth. But he again assured her that he was utterly helpless in such matters—that his education had been sadly neglected.
"And I am sorry it makes you unhappy," he added, in a moment.
"You are very disappointing, Lord Lambeth," she said.
"Ah, now, don't say that," he cried. "That's the worst thing you could possibly say."
"No," she rejoined, "it is not so bad as to say that I had expected nothing of you."
"I don't know. Give me a notion of the sort of thing you expected."
