The butler's interruption while the family was at breakfast one August
morning, caused a sudden hush of expectancy.

"A telegram for me!" replied John, trying to assume sufficient dignity
for the momentous occasion,--the arrival of the first message he had
ever received. "Why, what can it be?"

"Do open it, John. It must be a cable," Betty pleaded, fearing
something might be wrong at home.

"Yes, hurry, dear," put in Mrs. Pitt.

Just the second that the contents were revealed, a great shout of joy
went up, and John and Betty fairly jumped up and down in their
excitement.

"Father and mother coming!" John cried. "On the way now! Taking us to
Switzerland! It's great!"

Betty's radiant face showed what delight the prospect of seeing her
father and mother gave her. Glancing at Mrs. Pitt almost at once,
however, she hastened to say:

"We're both sorry to go away from you all, though, and I hope they'll
let us come back. We've had such a good time in England! Don't you
think we can go on with our trip here after Switzerland?"

"I really can't tell, dear, for this is all so unexpected. I don't
know what your father's plans may be, but I hope he will bring you
back to me. I'd be very sorry if it were all at an end! But to think I
shall so soon see your father!" Mrs. Pitt sat staring into the grate,
and seemed to be lost in her thoughts.

After the general commotion caused by the news had somewhat subsided,
and they had all adjusted themselves to the new plans, Mrs. Pitt
decided to spend the remaining week in the city, as she had still so
much there to show John and Betty. The weather being quite cool and
comfortable, they could easily go about.

It happened that two events of those busy days made an everlasting
impression on the minds of both John and Betty. First, there was
their glimpse of the King and Queen; and then, there was the fire.

As they emerged at about noon one day from the National Gallery, where
Mrs. Pitt had been showing them some of the best pictures, Philip
heard some one on the steps of the building say that the King and
Queen had come to town to be present at the unveiling of a statue.
They were soon to pass through St. James Park on their way from
Whitehall, it was understood, and our friends at once hastened in that
direction. For some time they waited with the crowd, and it was not
exactly agreeable, for the day was damp and foggy, and a fine rain had
set in. All the while, John was get