It was the sixth day of Mr. Direck's first visit to England, andhe was at his acutest perception of differences. He found Englandin every way gratifying and satisfactory, and more of a contrastwith things American than he had ever dared to hope.
He had promised himself this visit for many years, but being ofa sunny rather than energetic temperament—though he firmlybelieved himself to be a reservoir of clear-sighted Americanenergy—he had allowed all sorts of things, and moreparticularly the uncertainties of Miss Mamie Nelson, to keep himback. But now there were no more uncertainties about Miss MamieNelson, and Mr. Direck had come over to England just to convincehimself and everybody else that there were other interests in lifefor him than Mamie....
And also, he wanted to see the old country from which hismaternal grandmother had sprung. Wasn't there even now in hisbedroom in New York a water-colour of Market Saffron church, wherethe dear old lady had been confirmed? And generally he wanted tosee Europe. As an interesting side show to the excursion he hoped,in his capacity of the rather underworked andrather over-salaried secretary of the Massachusetts Society for theStudy of Contemporary Thought, to discuss certain agreeablepossibilities with Mr. Britling, who lived at Matching's Easy.
Mr. Direck was a type of man not uncommon in America. He wasvery much after the fashion of that clean and pleasant-lookingperson one sees in the advertisements in American magazines, thatagreeable person who smiles and says, "Good, it's the FizgigBrand," or "Yes, it's a Wilkins, and that's the Best," or "Myshirt-front never rucks; it's a Chesson." But now he