t
the hotel in Leamington.

"I guess I'm not used to quite such long rides as you," she said. "It
has been beautiful, though, and I wouldn't have come by train for
anything. I just love Warwickshire, and everything about it,
especially the language, which I mean to learn while I am here."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WARWICK AND KENILWORTH CASTLES

The bicycles were returned to their owner in Stratford, and Mrs.
Pitt's plan was to drive to Warwick and Kenilworth the following day.
Consequently it was a great disappointment at breakfast-time to see
gray and threatening clouds overhead, from which rain very soon began
to descend. The day was also very cold, and such a chilling wind was
blowing and whistling around the corners of the hotel, that fires were
lighted in all the tiny grates.

"Whoever heard of such cold weather in June!" John protested, not in
the best of spirits at being shut up in the house. "It's horrid, I
say! Ugh! If my fur coat was here, I should put it on, and then get
inside the fireplace, too."

At this very dismal burst of feeling from John, Mrs. Pitt came to the
rescue, suggesting a game of billiards. John brightened very
considerably after this, and the remainder of the day was pleasantly
spent in writing letters, playing games, and reading aloud from
Scott's "Kenilworth," in preparation for the morrow's visit to that
castle.

"Just think of seeing the very spot in the garden where Queen
Elizabeth met Amy Robsart! And perhaps the same room where she slept.
Oh, I can hardly wait till morning!" sighed Betty rapturously.
"Kenilworth" had long been one of her favorite books.

At bedtime Mrs. Pitt, inwardly rather uncertain about the prospects of
the weather, was outwardly most cheerful with her assurance that she
"felt sure it would be fine in the morning."

Mrs. Pitt was "usually right about things," as the children had long
since discovered, and this proved no exception to the rule. The sun
shone brightly on the morrow, and the whole country-side looked as
though it had been washed and cleaned so as to appear at its loveliest
for the visitors.

The drive through Leamington revealed a very pretty watering-place,
with baths, parks, gay streets of shops, and many neat little private
villas, each being dignified by a name.

"How do they ever find names enough to go around?" Betty thought to
herself.

They soon left the town behind, and a short drive along the perfectly
smooth, wide, count