THE GLORY OF THE PAST
With light hearts and lighter feet the girls danced from the dark hotel
to the sun-flooded street. Umbrellas had been down for half an hour and
in some places the sidewalks were already partly dry. Smiles and friendly
nods had once more become the fashion where before had been only
grumbling discontent, with now and then a muttered, "Beastly rotten day,
what?"
"Oh, what a dif-fer-ence!" cried Lucile, surveying the scene with
delight. "I'd begun to be rather disgusted with London this morning,
everything looked so dreary and forlorn. I wonder what can be keeping Dad
and Mother," she added, turning to the hotel entrance, while her foot
tapped impatiently. "They said they'd be with us right away--oh, here
they are! Speaking of angels----"
"And they're sure to turn up," said Phil, producing himself with
startling suddenness from nowhere. "Bet you can't guess where I've
been."
"Why work when you don't have to?" philosophized Jessie. "If we don't
care where you've been, why bother to guess?"
"All right; I won't let you in on the secret now, but when you do find
out about it, you'll wish you had been more civil," Phil prophesied,
darkly.
"Here is the car; come down, all of you," commanded Mr. Payton; and, all
else forgotten, they very willingly obeyed.
The machine was a big touring car, hired especially for the occasion, and
the girls thrilled at the thought of seeing London in this fashion. In
they tumbled joyfully, the big tonneau just accommodating five, while Mr.
Payton took his place beside the driver.
"Where to, sir?" asked the latter.
"Oh, all around," said Mr. Payton, with a wave of his hand. "You know the
points of interest better than I do. Only, of course, the young folks
must stop for a long look at Westminster Abbey on the way back."
"All right, sir," said the man, with an understanding grin, and added,
"For the whole afternoon?"
"Yes," said Mr. Payton.
With that the chauffeur threw in the clutch and the big machine whizzed
away through the crowded traffic bearing a very happy cargo.
The girls never forgot that afternoon. Impressions crowded so thick and
fast upon them they had all they could do to gather them in, and Lucile
more than once exclaimed, "Oh, I must come here some day when I have lots
of time and just stand and look and look and look!"
The last time she had made this remark was when they were proceeding
slowly through the crowded traffic of London Bridge.
"Do you remember what Mark Twain said about people in olden times being
born on the bridge, living on it all their lives, and finally dying on
it, without having been in any other part of the world?" said Phil,
looking about him with lively interest.
"Well, I don't blame them much," Jessie answered; "it is fascinating."
"Yes; only they don't have the heads of Dukes and things on spikes the
way they used to," Evelyn complained.
"Goodness, Evelyn, you can't expect everything! Besides, you wouldn't
actually like to _see_ those things," cried Lucile, horrified.
"Well, maybe I wouldn't _like_ to look at them," Evelyn retracted,
embarrassed by so many laughing eyes upon her. "But if they were there, I
just couldn't help looking, could I?" she finished, lamely.
There was a shout, and Jessie exclaimed, "I do believe you'd enjoy being
a cannibal, Evelyn. You and the black-skins certainly have a great many
views in common."
At last they had left the bridge behind and were once more speeding
through the historic streets of London.
"The Abbey now, Dad?" Phil questioned, eagerly. "That's what I came to
Europe to see, you know."
"Seems to me you're getting mighty familiar," commented Jessie. "Why
don't you call it by its full name?"
"Are we, Dad?" said Phil, ignoring the interruption.
"We are," said Mr. Payton. "I've been wanting to see it, along with other
things, all my life, Phil. You see, I wasn't so lucky as you. However, I
expect to make up for lost time."
"Well, it's a treat just to ride along the streets," said Evelyn. "It's
so very different from anything I ever saw before."
"Yes; you could imagine you were reading Dickens," said Lucile, her eyes
bright with the idea. "Why, that little shop might almost be the same one
where----"
"Uncle Sol and Cap'n Cuttle hung out," said Phil.
"Yes," Jessie added, excitedly. "And you can almost see little Florence
Dombey----"
"And her black-eyed maid, Susan," said Evelyn, eagerly, and they all
laughed delightedly at the picture.
"Gee, it does seem to make his books lots more real," Phil chuckled.
"Dear old Cap'n Cuttle and Uncle Sol's nevvy, Wal'r--you remember him,
don't you?"
Of course they did. So on they went, most of the time in gales of
merriment, as some house or modest little shop suggested some character
or happening in the books of the great writer and humorist.
So happy were they in their imagining that they were almost sorry to find
themselves at their destination.
"Oh, so soon?" cried Lucile, trying vainly to straighten the corners of
her laughing mouth into some semblance of the sobriety that befitted so
great an occasion. "Oh, I never get enough of anything!" This last a
protest against fate.
"Greedy child!" whispered Evelyn, lovingly, as the chauffeur opened the
door. "It is a great deal better than having too much of everything," she
added, philosophically.
Phil was standing a little apart from the rest and was gazing with
rapturous awe at this object of his boyhood adoration.
"Gee, Lucy, look at it!" he murmured, as his sister tucked her arm in his
in mute understanding. "Think of the architect that could plan that
magnificent structure!"
"It is wonderful," Lucile agreed, softly, sobered by the beauty, the
indefinite repose and dignity of the old, historic pile. "Phil, can you
really imagine we are standing here in London, actually looking at
Westminster Abbey? I can't."
"It sure does seem impossible, little sister," Phil answered,
understandingly. "But so it is. I guess Dad wants us now; he seems to be
ready," he added, as Mr. Payton beckoned to them.
"Yes," began Evelyn, the irrepressible. "I want to see all the
aesoph--sarcophaguses--gae----" she floundered hopeless and looked to the
others for relief.
"Perhaps you mean sarcophagi," Jessie suggested, loftily, while the
others laughed at her discomfiture.
"Well, whatever it is, I want to see it," she persisted, doggedly.
"Don't worry; you shall," Lucile promised. "If I know anything about it,
you will have plenty of time to see everything, for I'm not going home
till I have to."
A moment more and they had stepped within the great, silent,
shadow-filled cathedral. The lights and sunshine of the out-of-doors made
the contrast more impressive and in the wonder of the moment the girls
drew closer together. Gone was all their levity now, buried deep
beneath an overwhelming reverence for this great architectural
masterpiece--exalted resting place of England's noblest men.
The mellow, softly-tinted light from a hundred lofty windows bathed the
clustering pillars, the magnificent nave and choir in a soft, roseate
glow. To the girls it seemed that all the glory, all the romance, all the
pomp and splendid grandeur of the ages lay embodied there.
Lucile's hand was cold as it rested on her father's. "Dad," she breathed,
"it almost makes you feel the wonderful scenes it has witnessed."
"Do you wish to be shown about the Abbey?" The calm voice startled them
and they turned sharply.
"Why, yes," said Mr. Payton to the tall, thin, aesthetic-looking young
man who stood regarding them blandly. "We will be glad to have you act as
guide."
This the young man did, and to such good effect that the girls and Phil
were soon hanging on every word.
The magnificent choir held for them especial interest, for it was there
had taken place the gorgeous coronations of the kings of England from the
time of Harold.
"It seems like a fairy tale, anyway," said Jessie, wide-eyed and
pink-cheeked. "Why, to think of all the great monarchs of
England--Richard the Third and Henry the Eighth and Queen
Elizabeth--actually being crowned on this spot! Why, it is the next best
thing to seeing the coronation itself!"
From there the party passed into the north transept, where lay, for the
most part, the great statesmen and warriors of England.
But it was in the south transept, in the poets' corner, where were
erected memorials of the great English writers, that our party was most
interested. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Thackeray, Dickens--magic names, names
to conjure with!
Their English guide grew more eloquent and his face flushed with pride as
he went into eulogies of these great men who had made England famous in
the literary world.
They lingered longer over Dickens' tomb, visioning the man who, by the
far-reaching genius of his pen, could sway multitudes to laughter or
tears at will.
"And it is to Dickens, largely, that we owe the marvelous improvement in
social conditions among the lower classes," the young man finished. "If
it had not been for the boldness of his pen, we might still be going
blithely along, blind to the miserable, unjust conditions that so
prevailed among the poor of his time."
And so the afternoon wore blissfully on, till Mr. Payton drew out his
watch and four pairs of eager young eyes followed the action fearfully.
"It can't be late, Dad," from Lucile.
"After six," said Mr. Payton, and they groaned in unison. "I'm as sorry
as you young folks to tear myself away, but I'm afraid we've seen all we
can for to-day."
Slowly, and each step a protest against a necessity that demanded their
return so soon, the girls made their reluctant way to the door of the
cathedral.
Before they stepped into the waiting machine, our party turned for one
more look at the Abbey.
"Oh, Dad, did you ever see anything like it?" breathed Lucile.
"There _is_ nothing like it," her father answered, slowly. "It is
testimony in stone, a silent epitome of the glorious, stately,
romance-filled history of England!"