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Chapter 17

           Sheleadsthelifeofanice-berg,anddoesn’tcarearapforanyone.Shedoesn’tcareforyou,youknow!—Iwishshedid—she’dbemorehuman!"

           "I’mverysorryforallthis,"—Isaid,smilingintothepiquantefaceofthereallysweet-naturedgirl,andgentlyfasteningthejewelledclaspofhercloakatherthroat—"Butyoumustn’tminditsomuch.YouareadearlittlesoulDiana—kindandgenerousandimpulsiveandalltherestofit—but—well——EnglishpeopleareveryapttomisunderstandAmericans.Icanquiteenterintoyourfeelings—stillyouknowLadySibylisveryproud——"

           "Proud!"sheinterrupted—"My!IguessitmustfeelsomethingsplendidtohaveanancestorwhowaspikedthroughthebodyonBosworthfield,andleftthereforthebirdstoeat.Itseemstogiveakindofstiffnessinthebacktoallthefamilyeverafterwards.Shouldn’twonderifthedescendantsofthebirdswhoatehimfeltkinderstuckupaboutittoo!"

           Ilaughed—shelaughedwithme,andwasquiteherselfagain.

           "IfItoldyoumyancestorwasaPilgrimFather,youwouldn’tbelievemeIexpect!"shesaid,thecornersofhermouthdimpling.

           "Ishouldbelieveanythingfromyourlips!"Ideclaredgallantly.

           "Well,believethat,then!Swallowitdownifyoucan!Ican’t!HewasaPilgrimFatherintheMayflower,andhefellonhiskneesandthankedGodassoonashetoucheddrylandinthetruePilgrim-Fatherway.Buthecouldn’tholdacandletothepikedmanatBosworth."

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