is last a
protest against fate.

"Greedy child!" whispered Evelyn, lovingly, as the chauffeur opened the
door. "It is a great deal better than having too much of everything," she
added, philosophically.

Phil was standing a little apart from the rest and was gazing with
rapturous awe at this object of his boyhood adoration.

"Gee, Lucy, look at it!" he murmured, as his sister tucked her arm in his
in mute understanding. "Think of the architect that could plan that
magnificent structure!"

"It is wonderful," Lucile agreed, softly, sobered by the beauty, the
indefinite repose and dignity of the old, historic pile. "Phil, can you
really imagine we are standing here in London, actually looking at
Westminster Abbey? I can't."

"It sure does seem impossible, little sister," Phil answered,
understandingly. "But so it is. I guess Dad wants us now; he seems to be
ready," he added, as Mr. Payton beckoned to them.

"Yes," began Evelyn, the irrepressible. "I want to see all the
aesoph--sarcophaguses--gae----" she floundered hopeless and looked to the
others for relief.

"Perhaps you mean sarcophagi," Jessie suggested, loftily, while the
others laughed at her discomfiture.

"Well, whatever it is, I want to see it," she persisted, doggedly.

"Don't worry; you shall," Lucile promised. "If I know anything about it,
you will have plenty of time to see everything, for I'm not going home
till I have to."

A moment more and they had stepped within the great, silent,
shadow-filled cathedral. The lights and sunshine of the out-of-doors made
the contrast more impressive and in the wonder of the moment the girls
drew closer together. Gone was all their levity now, buried deep
beneath an overwhelming reverence for this great architectural
masterpiece--exalted resting place of England's noblest men.

The mellow, softly-tinted light from a hundred lofty windows bathed the
clustering pillars, the magnificent nave and choir in a soft, roseate
glow. To the girls it seemed that all the glory, all the romance, all the
pomp and splendid grandeur of the ages lay embodied there.

Lucile's hand was cold as it rested on her father's. "Dad," she breathed,
"it almost makes you feel the wonderful scenes it has witnessed."

"Do you wish to be shown about the Abbey?" The calm voice startled them
and they turned sharply.

"Why, yes," said Mr. Payton to the tall, thin, aesthetic-looking young
man who stood regarding them blandly. "We will be gla