IN LONDON TOWN
THE bells were ringing out the noon hour when the Corners arrived in
London, yet it seemed a quiet and dignified place after Paris. Miss
Helen had chosen a neat little hotel for their stopping-place to which
they drove directly. The party had amused themselves during the journey
from Canterbury by choosing what they most wanted to see. Mrs. Corner
selected Westminster Abbey, Nan the National Gallery, Jo the British
Museum, Mary Lee the Zoo, Jack the Tower, and Jean Kensington Gardens.
"Gracious! but there is a lot to see," Jo remarked as she turned over
the leaves of a copy of Baedeker's London. "It would take weeks to do
it all, and I suppose the longer you stay the more you find to see;
that's the way it generally is."
"It is particularly so with London," Miss Helen acknowledged. "We shall
have time only to skim off the cream this trip, but we can see the most
important things."
It was Jo, perhaps, who was most impressed by Westminster Abbey. Many
of the things and places in Europe were but words to her for she had
"scrambled up" as she said, and the time she had passed at Miss Barnes'
school had been her only opportunity for real culture, but she was so
bright and wide-awake, so eager to absorb information that Miss Helen
congratulated herself that she had asked the Western girl to join the
party.
"I can't realize it," whispered Jo, after standing a few moments in
mute awe before the monuments in the Poet's Corner. "Of course I knew
there was a Westminster Abbey, but I hadn't an idea what it was like.
Now, I shall never forget. It seems a stupendous thought that all this
great number of celebrities should be buried here, and that you have
them all in a bunch before you, so to speak. I feel now as if they had
really lived and not as if they were names at the end of poems."
The visit to the Abbey took up most of the morning, but as Mrs. Corner
was tired, and the twins soon wearied of looking at pictures, it was
decided that Miss Helen should take the three elder girls only to the
National Gallery while the others returned to the hotel.
Nan would fain have gone at once to the pictures and could scarcely
be dragged away to the nearest restaurant for a hasty lunch. Bath
buns and crumpets were ordered, the girls saying that these things
were so often mentioned in stories of English life, but when Jo asked
for lemonade she was told there was none, but she could have a "lemon
squash" which proved to be the same thing. "I shall soon catch on to
the Englishisms," said Jo, "and you will hear me asking for a grilled
bone and skittles and winkles with a lot of other queer things before I
leave here."
"I like the National Gallery much better than the Louvre," decided Nan,
as, foot-weary, Miss Helen declared they must not try to see more that
day.
"We can come back," she said, "for it is a remarkably choice
collection. There are so many of the best examples of the best artists
that one gets an idea of nearly every school of painting through many
of the world's famous pictures here."
"I am going to begin a collection of photographs and things like that
for a sort of History of Art," Nan decided. "It will be a lovely way to
study, and there are so many good reproductions one can get."
"That is an excellent idea," agreed Miss Helen, "and I am sure Miss
Barnes would greatly approve of your spending some of your prize money
in that way."
[Illustration: JO MANAGED TO GET NEXT TO THE DRIVER.]
"What shall you buy with the rest of it, Nan?" asked Jo.
"I haven't quite decided, but I think I shall spend it all in books and
pictures. Don't you think, Aunt Helen, it would be nice to buy books at
the places associated with the authors? For example I could get a set
of Shakespeare at Stratford-on-Avon, Wordsworth in Grasmere, Gray at
Stoke Poges, and so on. You see then they would serve a double purpose."
"I think it would be an admirable plan," said Miss Helen, "and just
the kind of thing you will enjoy, Nan. Don't spend more than half your
money in England, however, for you will see things in Germany and Italy
that you will want, not to mention Paris."
"I think I will make my fullest collection of Rossetti, for you know he
was the subject of my theme that won the prize."
"That would be quite right and proper, and you will find some charming
pictures here."
"Don't you think we shall have time for the Portrait Gallery to-day?"
asked Nan wistfully.
"Surely not to-day, dear. There is nothing more wearying than picture
galleries, delightful as they are. You will have mental indigestion if
you try anything more. Perhaps you and I can slip off sometimes and
come here while the others are doing things we don't care so much
about."
"I'd like to see the Zoo well enough, but I would much rather see
pictures."
"Then we might let the rest go to the Zoo while you and I do pictures
all day. There are the Wallace collection and the Tate Gallery still to
see."
"Oh, Aunt Helen, do you think we shall be able to see both as well as
the Portrait Gallery?"
"We can go to at least one of them, I think. They are some distance
apart so we cannot attempt them both in one day. To-morrow we have
decided to go to the Tower, and as we shall then not be so very far
from St. Paul's we must see that. Perhaps day after to-morrow will give
us a chance for one or another of the galleries."
Nan gave her aunt's arm a squeeze; the two were walking ahead of Mary
Lee and Jo. Aunt Helen was always so ready to respond to Nan's desires,
for they were great chums.
They waited for a 'bus which would take them to their hotel, all
clambering on top that they might better see the life of the London
streets. Jo managed to get next to the driver and extracted a deal of
information at the expense of a threepenny tip. In consequence the way
was made so intensely interesting that they were carried beyond their
destination, and walked back chattering like magpies.
They found Jean complacent at having tasted clotted cream, and Jack in
the dumps because she could not go out into the nearest square. "It is
the stupidest old place I ever saw," she complained. "They lock their
gates and won't let you in unless you have a key. At home and in Paris
all the squares are free. Stingy old English! They keep their gardens
all walled up, too, so you can't get so much as a peep at them. They
are just the meanest people I ever saw."
"There are plenty of places that are free," Nan tried to console her by
saying.
"Where?" asked Jack.
"Oh, Hampstead Heath, Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park," said Nan.
Jack whispered the names to herself as she stood looking out of the
window. "Nan," she said presently, "won't you go with me to Hyde Park
or somewhere? It is horrid to stay in the house."
"Dear chickabiddy, I am so tired. I didn't realize how tired I was till
I reached home. I have been on my feet the entire day. Perhaps some
other time we can go."
"Is it very far?" asked Jack.
"Not so very, but it is far for a tired body like me to go there
to-day."
Jack was silent a few moments. "London is an awfully big place, isn't
it?" she said presently.
"The biggest city in the world."
"Would you be afraid we'd get lost if we went alone?"
"Well, I don't know. I would carry a map, and if we did stray into
unknown regions, I'd ask a bobby to set us right."
"What is a bobby?"
"A policeman. They have such nice, big, kind policemen here; they are
always so ready to help one."
Jack made no comment and presently left the room.
"Where is Jack?" asked Mrs. Corner as they were about to go to dinner.
No one knew. Nan had been the one who saw her last. "She wanted me to
go to Hyde Park with her," she told her mother, "but I said I was too
tired."
"Do you suppose the little monkey could have gone off by herself?"
asked Mary Lee.
"I am sure I don't know. I verily believe that is what she has done,
the minx!" exclaimed Nan. "She asked me whether I would be afraid of
getting lost in such a big city, and I very innocently told her I would
trust a policeman to set me right, so no doubt she has serenely gone
off to follow out my suggestion."
Mrs. Corner looked alarmed. "That child alone in this great city!
Almost anything could happen to her."
"Trust Jack," said Nan. "She will come out of it all right. See if she
doesn't."
And true enough they had not sat down to the table before Jack appeared
jubilant. She had found her way to Hyde Park, had been greatly
entertained by watching the people, and had been piloted home by a
series of bobbies who proved very acceptable company. "One of them has
a little girl just my age though she's 'arf an 'ead taller, he told
me," Jack informed her family, "and she knows this part of London like
a book."
"Jack," said her mother, "if you are going to keep on doing things of
this kind I shall not have an easy moment. Some dreadful thing might
have happened to you. Have you forgotten what I told you when you went
off with the _cocher_ in Paris?"
"No, I didn't forget, but that was Paris, and you never said I mustn't
go here where every one speaks English. I sat quite still after I got
to the park," Jack went on in an injured tone. "I didn't run about a
bit, and there were bobbies with me all the way back."
"Nevertheless, I cannot allow you to rush off by yourself. You have
often been told that you must never go without some older person."
"The bobbies were much older," argued Jack plaintively. "I did remember
that you had said that, mother, and I didn't ask any children, only the
bobbies."
"Jack, you are perfectly incorrigible," returned her mother. "Please
to remember that hereafter, in whatever place we may be, that you must
always come to me to ask permission before going anywhere at all. If
you disobey this order I shall have to send you to a school where they
will be very strict with you."
Jack sighed and looked much aggrieved. As usual her point of view
seemed a very reasonable one to her, and she could not understand why
she should be dealt with so hardly when her intentions had been good.
She kept very close to the party the next day, however, and lagged
behind only once. Nan ran back to see her standing gazing curiously at
one of the Beef-eaters, stationed at the point from which they had just
made their exit. "Do come on, Jack," said Nan. "What are you loitering
here for?"
"I wish you all wouldn't be in such a hurry, Nan," said Jack. "I was
just going to ask the Beef-eater whether he liked beefsteak or roast
beef best, and whether he eats anything but beef."
"You are such a goose, Jack," laughed Nan, and hurried her little
sister along to where the others were waiting to go to the White Tower.
"Now that we have seen the place where so many sad scenes in English
history took place, I think it would be an excellent plan for us all to
lunch at Crosby Hall," said Miss Helen as they came away from the Tower.
"What is Crosby Hall?" asked Jo.
"It is a famous old building which, I am sorry to say, they threaten to
pull down, so this will probably be our last chance of seeing it," Miss
Helen answered. "It was built in 1466."
"Before America was discovered," ejaculated Jo.
"Yes, and it was considered the finest house in London at that time. It
was once occupied by the Duke of Gloucester before he became Richard
III, and no doubt he hatched many of his plots under its roof; it was
very convenient to the Tower, you will see."
"Where is it?" Nan asked.
"On Threadneedle Street or Bishopsgate within, I am not quite sure
which, but we shall soon see."
"What dear quaint names," said Nan. "I love these funny old streets."
"Tell us some more about Crosby Hall, Aunt Helen," said Mary Lee.
"It has had a variety of experiences," Miss Helen went on. "For after
being a private residence it became a prison, then it was turned into a
meeting-house, later into a warehouse, next into a concert hall. Now it
is a restaurant and a very good one. I think you all will enjoy a meal
in the hall where Shakespeare was sometimes a guest. He mentions the
place in his Richard III."
"It is an awfully nice surprise to spring on us, Miss Helen," said Jo.
"I think it will be great to go there."
"What are we going to have for lunch?" asked Jean. And every one
laughed.
"I think for one thing we must have some chops, such as one can get
only in England," her aunt told her. "There is a fine grill at Crosby
Hall where they cook a chop to perfection. While they are doing
the chops we can look around, and you will find yourself in a very
interesting place."
"I should think it was interesting," said Nan later. "Dear me, I feel
so queer to be sitting here where Shakespeare dined and where Richard
III ordered his chops."
"Are you trying to make a pun?" asked Jo.
"No. Why, may I ask?"
"You surely remember the conundrum about a cold chop and a hot steak."
Nan smiled, but immediately looked grave. "We are entirely too near the
Tower to make ghastly puns," she said. "Poor dear 'Lady Jane Grey,' and
poor dear little princes. I wonder if that wicked old uncle planned
that horror within these walls."
"One can imagine almost anything," said Mrs. Corner, "but I think we
would better not try to imagine too much, for here come the chops, and
they are solid facts indeed. Look at the size of them."
"What a number of nice-looking Englishmen are here taking their lunch,"
Nan remarked to Jo. "See their mugs of ale. Doesn't it make you think
of Dickens and Thackeray and all those? I'd like mighty well to stay in
London long enough to prowl around all those old Dickens places. I'd
like to see the Charterhouse, and the prison where Little Dorrit was,
and oh, dear me, London is too big to be seen in a hurry. Why can't we
stay here instead of going to Germany so soon?"
"You forget about that summer when we have promised ourselves to come
back. London will keep, Nan," her aunt reminded her.
They lingered over their meal, content with their surroundings till
Miss Helen mentioned that if they started at once there would be time
to see the old church of St. Helen's, adjoining, before they should go
to St. Paul's.
"You're a saint, isn't she, Aunt Helen?" said Jean. "Of course we ought
to go."
"We'll not go for that reason particularly," her aunt returned, "but
because Shakespeare was a parishioner of the church when he lived in
London, and because it is a quaint little place in the very heart of
what Londoners call 'The City.' This is one of the most interesting
sections of London, and scores of famous names are connected with
it. If we had time we could see the church of 'St. Botolph without
Bishopsgate' where John Keats was baptized, and could go to Leadenhall
Street to see the old House of the East India Company, where Charles
Lamb was a clerk for so many years. Alexander Pope was born not very
far from here, and Samuel Pepys is buried in the church of St. Olaves.
Then, too, the old Huguenot church used to be on Threadneedle Street,
and many a poor emigré was given a helping hand by the little body of
French Protestants who used to gather there."
"Oh, yes, that dear pastor of the French church at Canterbury told us
about it," said Mary Lee.
"The new French Protestant church is at Soho Square," remarked Mrs.
Corner, "though I am told the old Dutch Protestant church is still in
Austin Friars, and that the congregation refuse to part with their
property valuable as it is."
"I'd love to go there," said Mary Lee.
"We can't, we simply can't," cried Miss Helen. "We shall have to give
up referring to interesting places or we shall become unhappy because
we haven't time to give to all. That summer to come we will do nothing
but wander around London, and after we have seen it all if there is any
time left we will give it all to England."
"Oh, dear, but I shall not be here," sighed Jo.
"Who can tell?" said Miss Helen cheerfully. "One never knows what will
happen."
"That is true," returned Jo brightening.
"If any one had told us that day we met Daniella Boggs on the mountain
that she would one day go to boarding-school with us, and that she
would be ten times better off than we were then, I am sure we would
have laughed them to scorn," said Mary Lee. "So, Miss Jo, don't you say
you will not be here, for maybe you will."
"It is nice to think there can even come a maybe," said Jo, "and indeed
we could go further, and continue the Daniella story by saying that
if any one had foreseen that one Jo Keyes would be over here because
of a prize given by Daniella's uncle you all would have laughed more
scornfully than before."
After St. Helen's came St. Paul's, the Whispering Gallery, the crypt
and the many parts that all visitors must see. Then there was another
ride home on the top of an omnibus, this time Jack being the one who
secured a seat by the driver, and if he did not earn his threepence in
answering questions, it was not Jack's fault.
The following day all but Miss Helen and Nan set out for the Zoo. The
latter had a quiet day browsing around the galleries, and enjoying one
of the times the two delighted in. There was always a peculiar bond of
intimacy between them. No one understood Nan as well as her Aunt Helen
and there was no one to whom she more readily showed her inner self.
Since Miss Helen was Nan's godmother as well as her aunt, Nan had a
feeling of proprietorship which she claimed whenever occasions like
this offered. She had a fine time spending some of her prize money on
photographs, having Miss Helen's undivided attention when they came to
select.
"You see," said Nan, "when all the others are along, there is no use in
trying to do anything like this, and I do want to think calmly, for to
me it is a very important question, whatever it may be to the others.
I must have those two Browning portraits, Aunt Helen, for they were
Londoners before they became Florentines."
"I should certainly get those," Miss Helen approved the choice.
"And Dickens and Thackeray."
"Without doubt."
"And would you get Wordsworth and Rossetti here or trust to finding
copies at Grasmere?"
"I think I would take them while you are sure of getting just what you
want."
"Who else? Keats, of course, and, oh, dear, it is going to be harder
than I thought."
"Wouldn't it be a better plan to select what you're sure you want
to-day and come again after you have made a list?"
"Oh, but can we find time to come again?"
"We'll make time, even if we have to stay a day longer to do it."
"Bless you, my bestest aunt." They pored over the photographs for a
half hour longer and then Nan declared she was satisfied for that day,
and they went off, Nan carrying her precious package and feeling very
rich in her new possessions.
The British Museum occupied the greater part of the following day,
which was ended up in Kensington Gardens, and then came a trip to
Windsor Castle which included a further journey to Stoke Poges where,
if Jack did not see her moping owl, Nan found a charming little
photograph of the old churchyard, and on the way home bought a pretty
copy of the Elegy in which to put it. There was a second visit to
the National Portrait Gallery, taken one day when the rest were out
shopping, and this time Nan completed her purchase of all photographs
she intended to buy in London, and spent so much time poring over her
collection that she was in danger of not getting her trunk packed in
time the next day when they made their start for Oxford.
"I feel very much as if I had been faring on guide-books," said Nan,
as they settled themselves in the train. "And as for Aunt Helen, I
know she feels like one. If she had a red cover I would take her for a
Baedeker."
"I am sure Jean knows every item on the list at the pastry cook's, and
Mary Lee dreamed last night that she was a monkey and began climbing
over me," said Jo.
"Now, Jo," began Mary Lee.
"Well, didn't you?"
"I had a sort of funny dream about monkeys," Mary Lee admitted.
"As for Jack," Jo went on, "I defy any 'bus driver in London to keep
up with her questions."
"I know where you come," cried Nan. "You would have turned into a mummy
if you had gone to the British Museum once more."
"She is anything but one now," said Miss Helen, looking at Jo's plump
figure and saucy nose.
"As for me," put in Mrs. Corner, "I feel as if I had met many old
friends from whom I am now parting with regret."
The train started and soon the smoke of London was but a gray cloud in
the distance.
[Illustration: CHAPTER IX
WORK]