esn't it, Mrs.
Pitt?"

Having visited the cathedral and the old castle, they now left
Rochester, and found that the run to Canterbury was rather longer than
they had realized.

"But really, you know," Mrs. Pitt had intervened, "Rochester is just
about halfway between the two, London and Canterbury, I would say. And
we did stop quite a bit to see the sights connected with Dickens."

At last, however, about six in the afternoon, they came in sight of
Canterbury, its great cathedral towering over all,--its timbered
houses, old city-gate, and narrow, picturesque streets. As usual, the
young people who never seemed to need a rest, desired to start
sight-seeing at once, but unfortunately a sudden thunder-shower came
up to prevent.

"Oh, well, it will stop soon," Betty assured them. "It always does in
England."

This time, the weather was not so kind, however. The rain continued
persistently, and the party was forced to remain at the inn the entire
evening.

Sunshine, even though it be sometimes a bit dim and watery, is never
long absent during an English summer, so the morning dawned bright and
clear. Just as they set forth from the hotel, Betty felt in her coat
pocket and found that her precious red notebook, in which she
inscribed all interesting facts and discoveries, was missing.

Philip promptly came to the rescue, saying: "I saw you put it behind
you on the seat of the motor, yesterday, and it's probably there
still. I'll go to the garage and see."

Betty gave Philip a grateful little smile, but insisted upon
accompanying him on his search. They came upon the treasure just where
it had been left, and soon rejoined the rest of the party in the
cathedral close, where John was in the midst of taking some
photographs.

The first near view which they had of Canterbury Cathedral was in
approaching it from under old Christchurch Gateway. In spite of its
great age, the cathedral, in contrast with the much blackened gateway,
appears surprisingly white and fair. The exterior is very beautiful;
the two towers are most majestic, and beyond, one sees the graceful
Bell Tower, rising from the point where the transepts cross. In olden
days, a gilded angel stood on the very top of the Bell Tower, and
served as a beacon to the many pilgrims traveling toward Becket's
shrine.

Walking about inside the cathedral, they saw, behind the altar, the
position of the once famous shrine. All that now remain to remind one
that this e