bring out your axes,
And tell King George we'll pay no taxes
On his foreign tea.
His threats are vain, he need not think
To force our wives and girls to drink,
His vile Bohea.'"

"I shouldn't like to be forced to drink it," said Doris, with a touch of
repugnance in her small face.

"It does better when people get old and queer," said Uncle Winthrop.
"Then they want some comfort. They smoke--at least, the men do--and
drink tea. Now you can see the veritable Green Dragon."

The house was low, with small, old-time dormer windows. The dragon hung
out over the doorway. He was made of copper painted green, his two hind
feet resting on a bar that swung out of the house, his wings spread out
as well as his front feet, and he looked as if he really could fly. Out
of his mouth darted a red tongue.

"He is dreadful!" exclaimed Doris.

"Oh, he doesn't look as fierce now as I have seen him. A coat of paint
inspires him with new courage."

"Then I am glad they have not painted him up lately. Uncle Win, is there
any such thing as a real dragon? Of course I've read about St. George
and the dragon," and she raised her eyes with a perplexed light in them.

"I think we shall have to relegate dragons to the mythical period, or
the early ages. I have never seen one any nearer than that old fellow,
or with any more life in him. There are many queer signs about, and
queer corners, but I think now we will go over to Salem Street and look
at some of the pretty old houses, and then along the Mill Pond. Warren
took you up Copp's Hill?"

"Oh, yes."

"You see, you must know all about Boston. It will take a long while.
Next summer we will have drives around here and there."

"Oh, that will be delightful!" and she smiled with such a sweet grace
that he began to count on it himself.

The sun was going over westward in a soft haze that wrapped every
leafless tree and seemed to caress the swaying vines into new life. The
honeysuckles had not dropped all their leaves, and the evergreens were
taking on their winter tint. On some of the wide lawns groups of
children were playing, and their voices rang out full of mirth and
merriment. Doris half wished she were with them. If Betty was only
twelve instead of sixteen!

The Mill Pond seemed like a great bay. The placid water (there was no
wind to ruffle it) threw up marvelous reflections and glints of colors
from the sky above, and the sun beyond that was now a glo