the court.

"Yes, I believe he lived in both Johnson and Bolt Courts," Mrs. Pitt
told them. "His haunts were all about here. In number six, over there,
Goldsmith is said to have written 'The Vicar of Wakefield.'"

From there, they walked up Fleet Street, discussing their unusual
lunch as they went. They had all enjoyed it,--even Betty.

She made them all laugh, however, by announcing seriously, "I'm glad I
went, but I think it is just about as nice to read about lunching
there, as to really do it. And then, you wouldn't be quite so hungry
afterwards!"

CHAPTER SEVEN

A SUNDAY NIGHT CHAT

It was Sunday afternoon, and the time for John and Betty to send their
weekly letters home. The day was a beautiful one in early spring, the
grass and trees in the garden behind the house were very green, birds
were singing outside, people were continually walking by, and the
letters progressed but slowly. Every few moments Betty stole a glance
out-of-doors, and John sat leaning his elbow on the desk chewing the
end of his penholder, while he gazed steadily out of the window.

"Well, what do you think of it all, John?" asked Betty thoughtfully.
"Aren't we glad we came, and aren't Mrs. Pitt and Barbara and Philip
good to us?"

"Just splendid!" exclaimed John most emphatically. He had turned away
from the window now, and was entering earnestly into the conversation.
"I just tell you what, Betty, it's a different thing to peg away at
an old, torn history-book at school, and to come over here and see
things and places, while Mrs. Pitt tells you about them! Why, I
honestly like English history the way we're learning it now!"

Betty smiled in an elder-sisterly fashion. "Well, I always did like to
study history, but it surely makes it nicer and easier to do it this
way. But besides that, John, don't you think it's queer and very
interesting to see the way the English do things--all their customs, I
mean. They're so different from ours! Why, when I first saw Barbara
that day at the train, I thought it was the funniest thing that her
hair was all hanging loose down her back. I wouldn't think of being so
babyish! I thought perhaps she'd lost off her ribbon maybe, but she's
worn it that way ever since. And her little sailor-hat looks so
countrified as she has it,--'way down over her ears!"

[Illustration: "I'D FEEL LIKE 'LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY' GOING AROUND
WITH THOSE CLOTHES ON!"--_Page 84._]

"I know it; it seemed mighty f