of rooms, partaking of all his meals there, waited upon by his own people, and not once during the voyage did he appear on deck outside his own particular promenade, which was strictly guarded from intrusion. In like manner Lord Stranleigh maintained this rigid exclusiveness on the floor of the Plaza Hotel, which had been reserved for him. His not too polite refusal of all invitations from Society leaders in New York and Newport caused much discontent in select circles that intended to make him the lion of the day. He was equally firm in declining to meet any newspaper man or any captain of industry who wished to interest him in this scheme or the other, or who desired to learn his views regarding high finance. Wall Street and Society were equally angry, but the rest of America laughed, and the newspapers day by day published marvellous accounts of his doings and opinions, which their readers might believe or not, just as they chose.
But one man was enjoying a riotously good time, and this was Edmund Trevelyan, his lordship's distant cousin, who was unanimously voted by all who met him as the best, most genial, most sensible Englishman who had ever drifted across the ocean. He was made an honorary member of all the leading clubs, and entertained at dinners that were select and the best of their kind. Edmund Trevelyan learned that strict attention to business did not preclude a hospitality such as he had never
