"

"This reminds me of the time father and I did our own New York in one
of those big 'Seeing New York' motors," Shirley said. "I came home
feeling almost as if we'd been making a trip 'round some foreign city."

"Tom can't make Winton seem foreign," Josie declared.

There were three more houses to stop at, lower down the street. From
windows and porches all along the route, laughing, curious faces stared
wonderingly after them, while a small body-guard of children sprang up
as if by magic to attend them on their way. This added greatly to the
delight of Patience, who smiled condescendingly down upon various
intimates, blissfully conscious of the envy she was exciting in their
breasts. It was delightful to be one of the club for a time, at least.

"And now, if you please, Ladies and Gentlemen," Tom had closed the door
to upon the last of his party, "we will drive first to The Vermont
House, a hostelry well known throughout the surrounding country, and
conducted by one of Vermont's best known and honored sons."

"Hear! Hear!" Jack Ward cried. "I say, Tom, get that off again where
Uncle Jerry can hear it, and you'll always be sure of his vote."

They had reached the rambling old hotel, from the front porch of which
Uncle Jerry himself, surveyed them genially.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," standing up, Tom turned to face the occupants
of the stage, his megaphone, carried merely as a badge of office,
raised like a conductor's baton, "I wish to impress upon your minds
that the building now before you--liberal rates for the season--is
chiefly remarkable for never having sheltered the Father of His
Country."

"Now how do you know that?" Uncle Jerry protested. "Ain't that North
Chamber called the 'Washington room'?"

"Oh, but that's because the first proprietor's first wife occupied that
room--and she was famous for her Washington pie," Tom answered readily.
"I assure you, sir, that any and all information which I shall have the
honor to impart to these strangers within our gates may be relied upon
for its accuracy." He gave the driver the word, and the Folly
continued on its way, stopping presently before a little
story-and-a-half cottage not far below the hotel and on a level with
the street.

"This cottage, my young friends," Tom said impressively, "should
be--and I trust is--enshrined deep within the hearts of all true
Wintonites. Latterly, it has come to be called the Barker cottage, but
its real title is