own. Thee'll be glad to have a cup of coffee, doubtless,
if thee's just arrived from the train, as thee has the look of doing."
This with a glance at his travel-stained clothes.

Neal, very conscious of his muddy boots, thanked her, and sat down at
the table, where a neat-looking servant had made ready a place for him.
It seemed funny that they took his arrival as a matter of course, but he
supposed that was the Quaker way. At any rate, they were very kind, and
it was the best breakfast he ever ate. Even if he had not been so
hungry, the coffee would have been delicious, and all the rest of it,
too.

His cousins asked him no questions, but after breakfast he was shown to
a room and told to make himself comfortable.

"But I would like to speak to you, sir," he said to his host--"that is,
if you don't mind. I came on to Philadelphia on business." This with a
rather grand air.

"Verily," said William Carpenter; "but I have no time now. I go to my
office every day at this hour. Thee can come with me if thee wishes, and
we will converse there."

Neal agreed, and hastily brushing his clothes and giving a dab to his
boots he set out, much amused at the new company in which he found
himself. Mr. Carpenter wore a tall beaver hat, of wide brim and ancient
shape, which he never removed from his head, even though he met one or
two ladies who bowed to him.

"They don't all seem to be Quakers, though," thought Neal, as, leaving
Arch Street, they took their way across the city, and met and passed
many people of as worldly an aspect as any to be seen in Boston--in
fact, his companion's broad-brimmed hat seemed sadly out of place.

The houses too were different in this locality. Easter flowers bloomed
in the windows between handsome curtains, and there were not so many
white shutters and marble steps--in fact, with a street band playing on
the corner and the merry peal of chimes that rang from a neighboring
steeple it seemed quite a gay little town, thought Neal, with
condescension.

His cousin pointed out the sights as they walked.

"There are the public buildings," he said, "and beyond is the great
store of John Wanamaker. This is Chestnut Street, and yonder is the
Mint. Thee will go there and to Independence Hall while thee is here,
and to Girard College, that is, if thee has a proper amount of public
spirit, as I hope to be the case."

Neal humbly acquiesced, and then remarked upon the distance of his
cousin's place of