Now, I had never met a lemon-squash personally, but I had often heard of it, and wished to show my familiarity with British culinary art.

‘It would ’ardly be a substitute for gooseberry-tart, miss; but shall I bring one lemon-squash, miss?’

‘Oh, as to that, it doesn’t matter,’ I said haughtily; ‘bring a sufficient number for two persons.’

* * * * *

Aunt Celia came home in the highest feather. She had twice been mistaken for an Englishwoman. She said she thought [p10] that lemon-squash was a drink; I thought, of course, it was a pie; but we shall find out at dinner, for, as I said, I ordered a sufficient number for two persons, and the head-waiter is not a personage who will let Transatlantic ignorance remain uninstructed.

At four o’clock we attended evensong at the cathedral. I shall not say what I felt when the white-surpliced boy choir entered, winding down those vaulted aisles, or when I heard for the first time that intoned service, with all its ‘witchcraft of harmonic sound.’ I sat quite by myself in a high carved oak seat, and the hour was passed in a trance of serene delight. I do not have many opinions, it is true, but papa says I am always strong on sentiments; nevertheless, I shall not attempt to tell even what I feel in these new and beautiful experiences, for it has been better told a thousand times.

[p11]