"I don't expect," said he, "you've ever heard of Wick's Electric
Corn-flour?"
"It is my misfortune."
"We sent thousands of cans to Southern Europe last year, sir. Or Wick's
Sublimated Soda?"
"I am stupidissimo."
"No, not at all. But I daresay your momma knows it, if she ever has
waffles on her breakfast table. Well, it's been a kind of kitchen
revolution. We began by making a hundred pounds a week--and couldn't
always get rid of it. Now--why the day before I sailed we sent six
thousand cans to the Queen of Madagascar. I hope she'll read the
instructions!"
"It takes the breath. What splendid revenue must be from that!"
The Senator merely smiled, and played with his watch chain. "I should
hate to brag," he said, but anyone could see from the absence of a
diamond ring on his little finger that he was a person of weight in his
community.
"Oh!" said momma, "my daughter is awake at last! Mamie, let me introduce
Count Filgiatti. Count, my daughter. What a pity you went to sleep,
love. The Count has been giving us _such_ a delightful afternoon."
The carriage swayed a good deal as the Count stood up to bow, but that
had no effect either upon the dignity or the gratification he expressed.
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