ACROSS THE CHANNEL
"THERE doesn't seem to be anything to do but to bob about from place to
place," said Miss Helen a few days after the girls had returned from
Spain, "and as long as we are all over here together we may as well
make the most of our opportunities, for once you girls are in college
there is no knowing what we may have to do. Now, I vote for England for
the next move, and, Jo Keyes, I appoint myself a committee of one to
invite you to go along."
"Me?" Jo jumped to her feet. Though Miss Barnes was now in Paris with
her party of girls, Jo had not failed to be on hand when Nan and Mary
Lee returned.
"Yes," Miss Helen responded, "you are here for study, and surely
nothing will give you a better groundwork for your English literature
than a flight to England. I am sure Miss Barnes will not object to your
spreading out your prize a little thinner so it will last longer, for I
promise you shall be at no great expense. Miss Barnes will so soon be
returning, that I have not the least doubt but that she will consent
to your remaining in our company if I talk the matter over with her.
You remember that she does not take her party anywhere except on the
Continent, and this chance for seeing England is one I know she will
not want you to miss."
"How good you are, Miss Helen," Jo answered heartily. "I should so love
to go."
"Perhaps you can go to Munich with us, too," said Mary Lee. "I don't
see why you shouldn't go along; as you have been allowed to leave Miss
Barnes' party, anyhow, and have been with us most of the time, why not
keep right on? I am sure it would be cheaper than going back to the
Wadsworth school. I hope you have written about it to your father, so
you won't have to go back when Miss Barnes does. You know we talked it
over before we went to Spain."
"Yes, I have written all that you have said, and I am expecting an
answer any day, for if I do stay with you Miss Barnes must know,
otherwise, I shall have to be ready to take passage when she does. I
really have great hopes, though I am deadly afraid to talk about them
for fear they will not be gratified."
"When do we start for England, Aunt Helen?" asked Nan.
"Let me see. The Huttons are coming back next week so we shall have to
give up the apartment then."
"It doesn't seem possible that we have had it two months," remarked Nan.
"That is because you were not here during a whole month of our stay. I
think we may as well start off at once, so as not to have to make two
removes. We shall want to get to Munich as near the first of October
as we can, so you girls may arrange for school work as promptly as
possible.
"What do you say, Mary?" She turned to Mrs. Corner who had been
listening, but had taken no part in the conversation. "I know you are
rather afraid of the English climate, and I don't wonder, but September
will not be as dubious as April, I am sure. Often the weather then is
the very loveliest. Will you go with us, or shall we leave you and the
twinnies here?"
"Oh, oh!" came mournful wails of protest from the twins. "Don't leave
us behind, Aunt Helen."
"If you get tired," went on Miss Helen, still addressing Mrs. Corner,
"we can leave you with one or two of your brood in some quiet place
while we make short migrations."
"You put it so alluringly," said Mrs. Corner, "that I would be very
ungracious if I didn't fall in with your plan. I think I can stand it
for a short time, for I could rush down to Torquay, or some such place
if it turned suddenly chilly. I have a weakness for tagging along with
these girls, strange as my taste might appear to outsiders. I think
they should see London, and since you agree to leave me behind whenever
the energies of the party become too much for my powers, I agree to go."
"Good! Good!" cried the twins.
"Then since we are all agreed," said Miss Helen, "we may as well make
out our line of march. Nan, just hand me my Baedekers, those two on
Great Britain and London."
Nan hastened to obey. "I always get so excited when it comes to the
point of making out the route," she said. "What do you propose, Aunt
Helen?"
"I thought it would be rather fun to let each one choose the place she
wants most to see, and if her reason is good and sufficient, and the
place is within a reasonable route we'll take it in."
"That's a fine plan," declared Nan. "Who's to begin?"
"Your mother, I think."
All eyes were turned on Mrs. Corner. "I vote for Canterbury," she
said. "We crossed from Dieppe last time and did not take it in. There
are three interests for me there: first, the cathedral, second, the
Huguenot church in the crypt, and third, the association with the
Canterbury pilgrims."
"Good child," cried Miss Helen. "Go up head. Your reasons are
excellent. Moreover, if we cross from Calais to Dover we shall be
exactly on the line to London when we take in Canterbury. By all means
Canterbury, and incidentally Dover, which has a wonderfully fine old
castle. Now you, Nan."
"No, you, Aunt Helen."
"Then I choose Oxford which is always interesting to me and will be to
you. So far it stands Dover, Canterbury, London, Oxford. What next?
Your turn, Nan."
"I'd love the Lake District above all things, if it is within the
limits. You know I made a special study of that region last year when
I was getting up my theme. I should so like to see that little Dove
cottage where Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy lived, and there are
dozens of spots that the poems refer to that I should love to see. Next
to the Lakes I should like the Lorna Doone country."
"We certainly must manage one of them, the Lakes if it is possible, for
yours is a most worthy reason. Now, Jo, you have the next say."
"Stratford-on-Avon is mine, please. I don't think I have to give any
reason for wanting to go to the Shakespeare country."
"No, it is quite obvious. It works up beautifully, for it is not far
from Oxford. Now, Mary Lee, what do you choose?"
"If you say Oxford I will take Cambridge, though London is what I most
want to see, so leave out Cambridge if it is an out-of-the-way place.
I am crazy to see the Zoo in London, and after that anything will suit
me."
Miss Helen smiled. Mary Lee's fondness for animals was always evident.
"You shall certainly see the Zoo," her aunt told her, "and when we get
to London we will follow the same plan of choosing what we like best;
then every one will be suited. We may have to leave out Cambridge, but
we shall see later. What is your choice, Jack?"
Jack had been thinking very hard. "I'd like to see the white peacock on
that castle wall," she said.
"Rather vague," Nan murmured to her mother. "What castle, chickadee?
Where did you hear about white peacocks?"
"Mr. St. Nick told me. He saw them."
"Oh, I know; she means Warwick, Aunt Helen. I remember that Mr. St.
Nick and Miss Dolores were there. Isn't it Warwick, Jack?"
"I think so."
"That will not be out of our way at all," said Miss Helen. "We can
include that in our Shakespeare country, for it is practically the
same. Now, Jean."
This young person's desires were divided between a wish to eat clotted
cream in Devonshire and to see Southdown lambs which would grow up to
be sheep. The good things of life were generally uppermost in Jean's
mind. She had read of clotted cream in one of her favorite story-books,
and had heard Mr. St. Nick discourse upon the Southdowns.
"What a choice," cried the others.
"Well," began Jean in an aggrieved voice, "I'm sure everybody feels
crite as I do, only they don't say so."
"I think there will be no difficulty about indulging your yearning for
clotted cream in London," her aunt told her. "As for the Southdowns, we
can perhaps come back by way of New Haven and Dieppe when you will be
able to see the Southdowns of Sussex, so probably both your desires can
be fulfilled."
"I wish I had made two wishes," said Jack regretfully. It was always a
grievance when one twin had anything the other did not.
"Suppose you were to make another, what would it be?" asked her aunt.
Jack considered. "I think," she decided, "I should like to see the
moping owl."
"You ridiculous child," cried Mary Lee, "to go to England to see owls
and peacocks that you can see any time at home."
"Well, I never did see a white peacock nor a moping owl," said Jack,
"and I'm sure you want to go to the Zoo yourself. I've seen hooty owls,
but not the moping kind. Uncle Landy showed me a hooty owl that used to
live in our barn and catch mice."
"Have you an idea what she is talking about?" Jo asked Nan.
"Of course I have," returned Nan, putting her arm around her little
sister. "I remember the creature that Unc' Landy used to call a hooty
owl, and Jack has heard me repeat Gray's Elegy too often for me not to
know about the moping one. I'm afraid, dearie," she turned to Jack,
"that you wouldn't see the moping owl if you went to--what is the name
of the place, Aunt Helen, Stoke Poges? Thank you. I don't know how
long owls live but I fancy that special owl must have died years ago;
if not, he must be ready now to drop off with old age, so he couldn't
possibly fly to the 'ivied tower.'"
"We can take a day for Windsor castle and Stoke Poges, perhaps," said
Miss Helen, "even though we can't be sure of the owl. Let us see
how our itinerary reads now. From Calais to Dover, to Canterbury, to
London, to Oxford, to Cambridge--that means retracing our steps a
little if we go to the latter."
"Oh, but you know I gave up Cambridge," said Mary Lee. "I really am not
so very keen about it; I'd rather see Oxford, anyhow."
"How very English that keen sounds," laughed Nan. "I know where you
picked that up; from those English girls we met at Madame Lemercier's."
"Now let me see what we can do," said Miss Helen still absorbed in
her plans. "We shall probably have to leave out Cambridge, for it is
a pretty long list to cover in so short a time. We will say Oxford,
Stratford-on-Avon and Warwick. We will try for the Lakes and let Jean
eat her clotted cream in London, so that will leave out Devonshire, and
if we come back by way of Dieppe we shall sail from Newhaven and that
will give us a glimpse of Sussex. That will be the better way and I
think we can do it all without too great a rush. Now, off with you, and
begin to pack up."
The girls scudded to their different rooms, and began to chatter over
the new plans. "I wish we could go to Scotland," said Nan, "but we are
trying to do a great deal in a very short time, which mother thinks is
always a mistake. You see we gave up so much time to Spain that we have
very little left for England, but I am awfully glad you are to have a
whack at it, Jo."
"It is beyond my wildest hopes, for I thought France and Germany would
be my limit. It is all due to that blessed aunt of yours. I believe
half the reason she suggested the trip was on my account."
"Don't you believe it. She thinks it will be great for us all, though
I know she included you when she first thought of the advantage of
it. Once we settle down in Munich there will be five solid months of
German."
"And that is no cinch," declared Jo.
"It is a fearsome language," agreed Nan, "though they do say ours is
about as hard. I don't believe that, however, for I am sure getting the
pronunciation of English is much easier than to conquer that fearful
German grammar; ours is mere child's play compared to it. You are not
going to take all those things, are you, Jo? We shall be gone only a
month, and the bulk of our luggage will be left in storage here for us
to pick up on our way back."
"Who's getting English expressions now?" queried Mary Lee from the
depth of a trunk. "Why don't you say baggage?"
"Because they won't know what I mean in England. I say but we'll have a
lot of boxes, shan't we?" she went on with a strong English accent. "My
word, but I'm a silly ass to think I can get all this in one box. How
is that, Jo? Shall I be taken for an English girl, do you think? There,
I believe I have chosen judiciously. I must go and ask mother. Perhaps
she will think I shall not need that extra frock."
Another week saw the travelers on their way. After a short crossing
from Calais, which every one dreaded, but which no one minded in the
least, they set foot on the pier at Dover. "If any one mentions the
white cliffs of Dover to me," said Miss Helen at starting, "I'll cut
out her special choice of places from the trip." And in merry defiance
the girls skirted the subject, saying everything but the exact words,
till Miss Helen threatened to abandon them at the first stopping-place.
Mrs. Corner declined the steep walk to the castle, but the girls were
all eager to take it, and were not disappointed in what the place had
to offer. Nan's romantic soul delighted in the banquet hall, the little
gallery where the minstrels used to sit and the small room where the
ladies retired apart. "I can fancy it all," said the girl. "Never have
I had those old times brought before me so vividly."
"Old times," said Mary Lee. "This isn't nearly so old as things we saw
in Spain."
"But I don't read Spanish romances and I do read English ones,"
retorted Nan.
The magnificent array of armor greatly interested Jo, who examined
coats of mail, helmets and shields to her heart's content. Jack was
awe-stricken by the well three hundred feet deep, but Jean was most
interested in the birds outside the castle and the flowers in the
crannied wall.
The way to Canterbury was short and here they arrived before night, to
be established in a quaint little hotel but a stone's throw from the
great cathedral.
"I am glad the town still looks so old," said Nan. "One doesn't
need so much imagination to fancy the pilgrims, and as for the
cathedral,--well,--words fail."
A daily visit to the cathedral seemed a necessity to them all. They
would wander around the beautiful close, admiring this fine ruin, that
old porch until it was time for afternoon service when all would go to
spend an hour in the beautiful interior while the service went on.
It was on one of these occasions that Jack was found to be missing.
"She was here a minute ago," said Nan. "You all go in and I will try
to hunt her up. Very likely she is watching the rooks; she is crazy
about them." But search as she would no Jack did she find, and finally
decided to join the others in the church. She had scarcely seated
herself, when, looking across to the seats in the choir, she saw Jack
smiling from the archbishop's pew, quite happily settled by no less
personage than the gracious wife of the archbishop himself.
"How did you dare to go there?" asked Nan severely when she encountered
her waiting at one of the great doors after service.
"A lady invited me," said Jack coolly, not at all appreciating the fact
that she had been in the seats of the mighty. "I was standing in the
doorway looking around for you all, and that nice pleasant lady came
along and asked if I were alone. I said yes, but that I was looking for
my family. Where do strangers sit? I said, and she told me to come with
her, so I went."
"She was the archbishop's wife," Nan told her, "and you have been quite
honored. I suppose you were out watching the rooks and that was why we
couldn't find you."
"Yes, and I am glad I was, for I wouldn't have sat in the archbishop's
pew if I had gone in with you," returned Jack complacently. She always
comforted herself by deriving such benefit as she could from any of
her escapades, and if truth must be told she usually did come off with
flying colors.
Mrs. Corner, who was interested in getting some records for a friend at
home, determined upon a visit to the pastor of the Huguenot church, and
took Mary Lee with her as the others had planned to go to St. Martin's.
"You can tell us about your visit and we will tell you about ours,"
said Mary Lee to the others. "Time is too short for everybody to do
everything."
"It was fine," cried Nan when she met Mary Lee later in the day.
"He is the dearest man," responded Mary Lee, "and he told us such
interesting things, how Queen Elizabeth let the Huguenot refugees have
their services in the crypt of the cathedral, and how there have been
uninterrupted services held there ever since. There used to be a great
many Huguenots in Canterbury, and there are still a number of French
names, though a great many have become Anglicized. Baker used to be
Boulanger, and White used to be Blanc. Now the congregation is very
small, and there is very little money to pay the minister, but he is
full of faith, and is so enthusiastic and simple-hearted. He believes
that everything will come out all right. Just think, Nan, if it were
not for him the services would have to stop, and after all these years
it would be a shame. If I were very rich I would send him a big fat
check, for I don't know any one who would use it more unselfishly.
He lives in the tiniest little house, and 'does for himself' as they
say in England. He had been working in his garden when we got there,
and apologized for his appearance, but I just loved his simple ways,
and--oh dear----" She paused to take breath.
"Go on," said Nan. "I am tremendously interested."
"He is so dear," continued Mary Lee, "and brought out some of the
very old books he has, for as he said, 'I will show you the so many
interesting things that I have.' He left his parish in Canada to come
over here to take up this work because there was no one else who would
do it, and he is so eager for the honor of this early church. He
doesn't seem to care at all about himself. He ought to have a nice big
rectory instead of that box of a house, and he believes that some day
he will have, if it is best, but he thinks more of its being a dishonor
to the church than of his own discomfort to live as he does. We are all
going to the service in the crypt to-morrow afternoon. Do you know who
Beza was? We are going to hear some of the old hymns that are in the
old Beza hymn-book, and they will sing them just as their fore-fathers
did, the pastor promised us."
"Good!" cried Nan. "I want to go, too. We haven't had a bad time,
either, Mary Lee. You know St. Martin's was a Christian church before
Saxon days and before St. Augustine came to Great Britain. It was fixed
up as a chapel for Queen Bertha; she was the wife of Ethelbert. We
saw the old font where he was baptized. There are some curious slits
in the thick walls, and they are called 'leper's squints,' for you
see the lepers couldn't go inside but stood outside and peeped in.
The verger saw we were more interested than most visitors are and he
told us a lot. He showed us where the old wall began and where the
authentic Roman bricks are. There is a beautiful view of the town and
the cathedral from the churchyard. I brought you an ivy-leaf that had
fallen from the vine over the church, and we got some post-cards and
a little pamphlet on our way home. Aunt Helen says it is called the
Mother Church of England, and that though at Glastonbury Abbey the
church had its actual beginnings, that it is now in ruins. I should
love to go to Glastonbury, but I am afraid we cannot do it on this
trip."
"You know Aunt Helen has promised that some time we shall come over
and spend a whole summer in England, and then we can go."
"I'd like to spend weeks in Canterbury, and come to know every brick
and stone by heart. Aunt Helen and I are making a list of the places we
love best and, as you say, some day we are coming back and we mean to
stay a long time in each of those places we do love. At least that is
what we say we will do, and it is nice to think that we may."
"Hasn't it been an interesting day? I never expected to get so
enthusiastic, but somehow that dear French pastor stirred me up so I
couldn't help being wild about everything he was interested in."
"Only one more day and then London," said Nan, half regretfully.
"That will be fascinating enough, dear knows. Who could have believed
it, Nan, when you were playing your tunes on a log for a make-believe
piano and I was running around with Phil, that in a couple of years we
should be flying all over Europe."
Nan looked thoughtful. Those days did seem very far distant now, yet
they were dear days, and even with lack of means they had enjoyed life
in that old Virginia home. "Shall we ever be content to settle down
again, I wonder?" she said. "There is still so much ahead; school,
college, and then----"
"The then is a long way off still," said Mary Lee laughing. "I don't
believe we need to bother about it yet."
"Sensible as ever, Mary Lee," said Nan with an answering laugh.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VIII
IN LONDON TOWN]