“Well, you see, they haven't got such a complete machine in England—”
“Oh yes, that dreadful machine!” sighed Mrs. Pasmer, who had heard of it, but did not know in the least what it was.
“Do you think the Harvard crew will beat this time?” Alice asked of Boardman.
“Well, to tell you the truth—”
“Oh, but you must never believe him when he begins that way!” cried Mavering. “To be sure they will beat. And you ought to be there to see it. Now, why won't you come, Mrs. Pasmer?” he pleaded, turning to her mother.
“Oh, I'm afraid we must be getting away from Boston by that time. It's very tiresome, but there seems to be nobody left; and one can't stay quite alone, even if you're sick of moving about. Have you ever been—we think of going there—to Campobello?”
“No; but I hear that it's charming, there. I had a friend who was there last year, and he said it was charming. The only trouble is it's so far. You're pretty well on the way to Europe when you get there. You know it's all hotel life?”
“Yes. It's quite a new place, isn't it?”
“Well, it's been opened up several years. And they say it isn't like the hotel life anywhere else; it's charming. And there's the very nicest class of people.”
“Very nice Philadelphia people, I hear,” said Mrs. Pasmer; “and Baltimore. Don't you think it's well;” she asked deferentially, and under correction, if she were hazarding too much, “to see somebody besides Boston people sometimes—if they're nice? That seems to be one of the great advantages of living abroad.”
“Oh, I think there are nice people everywhere,” said the young man, with the bold expansion of youth.
“Yes,” sighed Mrs. Pasmer. “We saw two such delightful young people coming in and out of the hotel in Rome. We were sure they were English. And they were from Chicago! But there are not many Western people at Campobello, are there?”
“I really don't know,” said Mavering. “How is it, Boardman? Do many of your people go there?”
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