to explain that defection to her
some day. Meanwhile, I was glad of a sign of trust and friendship, and
replied that I had an idea "things" were looking up for us. "The little
lady is ready to bite his head off," I added. Molly shuddered. "He uses
the wrong sort of brilliantine," she mentioned. "But even honey and
flowers wouldn't make it a pleasant act."

While Caspian (I could almost have pitied him) saw a doctor about his
damaged digit, the rest of us, even my reluctant employeress, wandered
about looking at the ancient landmarks and watermarks we pretended to
have come to see. Perhaps some of us really had come for the
purpose--Jack Winston, for instance, who's as keen as mustard on linking
New World with Old World history. But, then, he doesn't have to make
excuses to snatch a little of his best girl's society, as I, Tom, Dick,
and Harry do. As for Moore, it's the opposite. He spends his time making
excuses to get away from his fair lady; and most of those excuses are
found in the society of Another! I could almost pity Mrs. Shuster, too,
she is so ingenuously miserable. But I harden my heart. Neither of the
pair is worthy of a pang. And few neglected loveresses have senators to
fall back upon. (She's done that literally, once or twice, and heavily,
because she's a champion stumbler.)

None of us feel drawn toward monuments, though we may approve of them on
principle, but if ever a monument was called for, at any place in the
world, that place is Plymouth. All the same, I'm not sure, if I'd had a
voice in the matter, that I shouldn't have let the Rock, with its date,
tell the story in its own simple way without any further emphasis. What
with that, and the welcoming beauty of the Harbour which no Pilgrim with
his eyes open could resist, and the Museum, and the ancient houses, I
think Plymouth could have held her own.

Somehow or other that witch of a Molly Winston contrived to gather the
clan together round her and Jack, and give me a chance to play guide to
Pat. To be sure, Mrs. Shuster, loyal to her absent partner, tried to
form a hollow square around us. But she couldn't spare more than half an
eye from Larry; and half one of Mrs. Shuster's eyes isn't dangerous.

There are quite a lot of things to be "done" in Plymouth, you know, and
if they are being done in couples or trios you can always go and gaze at
the old Common House while the others are revering Forefathers' Rock.
You can bow and smile as you meet t