The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Little Washingtons' TravelsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Little Washingtons' TravelsAuthor: Lillian Elizabeth RoyRelease date: April 24, 2012 [eBook #39518]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS' TRAVELS ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Little Washingtons' TravelsAuthor: Lillian Elizabeth RoyRelease date: April 24, 2012 [eBook #39518]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
Title: The Little Washingtons' Travels
Author: Lillian Elizabeth Roy
Author: Lillian Elizabeth Roy
Release date: April 24, 2012 [eBook #39518]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE WASHINGTONS' TRAVELS ***
AUTHOR OF THE POLLY BREWSTER BOOKS, THE GIRL SCOUTS BOOKS,Etc.
ILLUSTRATED
GROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS NEW YORK
Made in the United States of America
Copyright, 1918, byTHE PLATT & NOURSE COMPANY
"My parlor chair swings around every way!" exclaimed Martha Parke, thoroughly enjoying the novelty of whirling on a Pullman parlor chair.
"They all do, but folks are supposed to sit quiet and only swing when they want to see who's sitting on the other side of the car, or perhaps if a friend sits next to them and talks—then you have to turn and answer, of course," explained George Parke.
Jack Davis, the Philadelphia cousin of the two Parke children, had the vast experience of travelling from his native city to the country home of the Parkes just outside of Washington, D. C., a few weeks prior to the opening of this story. So, of course, he knew all about the Pullman parlor chairs.
"That isn't why they whirl at all! It's so you can turn to look out of the opposite windows, 'cause both sides of a railroad track have scenery, you know," glancing at the elders of the party to make sure they had overheard him.
"Why, Jack Davis! That isn't the reason at all! It's for the convenience of the conductor to take up tickets, so he won't have to lean away over or knock off the passenger's hat. Then, too, when the buffet waiter serves luncheon on those folding tables, he has to have room to move the chair around and place the stand right over the passenger's lap. Don't you remember?" explained Anne Davis to her brother.
"I'll ask mother—shall I?" ventured John Graham, a member of the travelling party from the South.
"No, no! We don't want to know anything! Let's see who can find the first church along the line," quickly said George, to divert attention.
For some time thereafter the young travellers were quiet, until Jack shouted: "I see one! It's old and tumble-down, but it has a steeple just the same!"
While the children were playing this game, the elders sat planning about the New York trip. They had started from the country estate that morning without mishap, which was remarkable, considering the many ways the "Little Washingtons" had of getting into trouble. But now that all wereen routefor the great city of the north, they wondered whether it had been wise to bring five lively children on such a trip.
"If John doesn't behave when you take him to visit the historical places, just let me know, and I will keep him at his great-aunt's. She hasn't a thing he can do mischief to!" said Mrs. Graham.
Mr. Parke laughed. "That would be a severe punishment for John. But I feel quite sure he will be the least troublesome of the party. George generally takes the lead in all escapades, you know."
"Not when Jack is around to suggest mischief!" added Mrs. Davis from Philadelphia.
"Well, there will be two of us, anyway, to keep them in order. And little Jim won't be here for them to use as a scapegoat, you know," laughed Mrs. Parke, thinking of the happy little face of the pickaninny who was last seen on the steps holding a book and a box of candy presented him by the Davis children.
"Did Sam wire you he would meet us?" asked Mrs. Davis of Mr. Parke.
"Yes, when I telegraphed him from home, he replied to my office in Washington. He will arrive in New York a train before us, and meet us at the Pennsylvania Terminal at Thirty-third Street. Then we will go to some large hotel until we see what we wish to do for the week."
"George sat looking over the newspaper this morning while we were waiting at the station in Washington for this train, and I leaned over to see what was engrossing his attention. What do you think he was reading?" asked Mrs. Parke.
"Goodness only knows what George reads—anything from the last drive of the Italians on the Alps to the present quotations on Wall Street!" laughed Mr. Parke, the father.
"Neither! He was poring over the list of hotels and restaurants in New York City. Finding I was watching, he said: 'I just found the place for us to stop.'
"'Yes?' said I. 'Where is it?'
"'The Martha Washington Hotel. We wouldn't think of boarding anywhere else, would we, when we are related to Martha?'"
The others laughed at this, and Mrs. Graham added: "Did you explain that that hotel was a ladies' hotel, and neither he nor his father nor his uncle would be allowed to stay there?"
"No, because he forgot all about the hotel when he saw Jack and the girls leading John over to the candy booth. That was enough for George!" laughed Mrs. Parke.
"I suppose you ladies have planned a campaign for going about to show the 'patriots' the historical points of interest in the city—that is why you came up here, you know," teased Mr. Parke.
"You came for business purposes, you said, so we will not trouble you with our plans," retorted Mrs. Davis.
But further conversation was interrupted by the children. "Mother, didn't you bring the copy of our Washington history with you?"
"I have it in the trunk.—Why?" said Mrs. Parke.
"Because Jack says Washington was in Boston in the spring of 1776, and I say he was in New York, where he thought General Howe was going after being driven from Boston," explained George.
"You are both right, son. Washington remained in Boston for a time to see just what Howe would do, and then fearing the weakness of defence of and about New York, he started for that city. It was while he was at New York that the letter from Congress was given him, in which he was so highly commended for the bravery and conduct of himself and his men at the siege," said Mrs. Parke.
Both boys had been so sure that each was right, that this information caused a sudden spell of humility, which gave the girls an opportunity to speak.
"Mother, didn't you read one day that the American army was vanquished on Long Island, and Washington had to hide up in the hills of Harlem until he got some more soldiers together?" asked Martha earnestly.
"Oh, oh! Is this the way my historical readings are interpreted?" sighed Mrs. Parke, in mock despair, while the other elders of the party laughed at Martha's presentation of the battle on Long Island.
"I think it best not to describe any more history now. When you are all on the spot of the battle scenes, the children will feel the actual spirit of the thing more than by listening to a tale," said Mr. Parke.
"I will follow your suggestion later, but just now I am not going to allow this misunderstanding to rest. Come here, children, and let me explain."
As there was nothing more exciting offered them, the five children turned their chairs about and listened to the story.
"You see, when General Howe sailed from Boston with his fleet, it was circulated that he proposed going to Halifax. But Washington was too wise a general to believe everything he heard, especially when it came from such a wily man as General Howe. So he figured out just about what Howe might do now that he was out of such nice, comfortable quarters like Boston.
"New York was another fine city, with every comfort to be had, so Washington thought that the British would prefer that life to one of privation and discomfort elsewhere.
"With the seized boats that had sailed into Boston harbor, ignorant of the fact that the British had left there, Washington was able to supply his men with guns, ammunition and goods greatly needed by them. Then, when Campbell of the British navy sailed serenely into the net of the enemy, a large quantity of military stores was captured, besides the fine vessel that carried over two hundred and seventy men. The latter were made prisoners, and the ships were turned into privateers, to act as sea-scouts in place of a regular naval force, which the colonists had not been able to raise as yet.
"Anxious for the safety of New York, Washington started an army from Boston, leaving five regiments under General Ward to defend the city. Passing through Providence, Norwich, and New London, he and the army arrived in New York on the 13th of April, where he found, as he feared, that city ill-prepared for defence against Howe.
"It was soon ascertained, however, that Howe had really sailed for Halifax, where he went to secure the cooperation of the forces of Canada.
"So you see, boys, Washington was in both cities that spring, but he spent the late spring and summer in New York, fortifying and preparing that city for the battle which he knew was sure to come."
"Tell us some more, mother," said Martha.
"Is it time for the luncheon?" asked George anxiously, as the porter passed through the car.
"No, sah; not yet!" replied the grinning colored man.
"Then go on, mother!" sighed George resignedly.
"Well, when Washington found how valuable the Hudson River was for crossings, and for transmitting supplies to the northern army under the command of Schuyler, he immediately began to fortify the passes bordering on that river.
"So, while Howe was in Halifax, the American army was engaged in defending its river front, and the City of New York.
"Meantime, a large fleet was fitted out by the British under the command of Sir Peter Parker. In June, this fleet came to anchor in Charleston harbor, where it was joined by General Clinton's forces.
"Fortunately, an intercepted letter warned the Americans of the destination of this armament, and this gave the colonists time to prepare defence against the English. Lee had been sent by Washington to command the forces in the southern country, and his popularity soon amassed over five thousand men. Under him were Gadsden, Moultrie, and Thompson. At the entrance of the Charleston harbor a fort had been constructed of the palmetto tree, which resembles cork in its looks and action.
"When Clinton landed some of his troops, he found Colonel Gadsden commanding a regiment on the northern extremity of James Island, and two regiments under Moultrie and Thompson, stationed at opposite extremities of Sullivan's Island.
"The attack on the fort began in the morning, while the ships threw their broadsides upon it, but the little fort returned the fire with so much skill and spirit that the ships suffered severely. One ran aground and was burned, while others were temporarily disabled. The British finally abandoned the enterprise, having lost over two hundred men, while the Americans only lost twenty.
"The failure of the attack was of great importance to the American cause, for it not only contributed much to the permanent formation of their independent government, but it had an effect on the half-hearted people who feared the power of England.
"The abrupt departure of General Howe from Boston had upset his plans, for all of his supplies had been sent to that city, and consequently fell into the hands of the American army. After waiting at Halifax for the appearance of the reinforcements he expected, but which did not arrive, he set sail for New York with his original army, where he landed on Staten Island the third of July, the same day that the Declaration of Independence was reported to the members of Congress at Philadelphia."
Mrs. Parke reached this point in her story when a waiter entered the car, making announcement of an interesting fact.
"Dinnah now served in th' dinin' car—foh cars ahead! Dinnah now served in th' dinin' car—foh cars ahead!"
"Oh, oh! they're going to have a dinner in the cars! We won't have to eat on the little tables brought in here," cried Jack, looking eagerly at Mr. Parke.
"Why, I don't think we'll need any dinner, do you? We will be in New York in an hour's time, and can have something at a quick lunch restaurant," replied Mr. Parke very seriously.
The children stared at him in such surprise that he was compelled to laugh outright. At that, they knew he was only fooling about dinner. Meantime, the ladies began to gather their various wraps and bags and arrange them in order back of the parlor chairs.
When all were ready to go forward, Mr. Parke beckoned the children to gather close about him, and gave them warning.
"Now look over the bill of fare carefully, and order the cheapest dishes there. I haven't much money with me, and it would be dreadful to have the bill come to more than I would be able to pay."
The three ladies had passed on before Mr. Parke whispered the embarrassing news, and George, making sure his father was not joking again, said:
"I've got fifty cents in my pocket; I'll eat that up!"
"It may not digest, George, because silver is not considered healthy for the human stomach, you know," replied Mr. Parke.
"Oh, you know what I mean! I'll order that much," said George, laughing.
"Will you have enough to pay for a dish of ice cream and a sandwich?" asked Martha anxiously.
"We'll have to see what they charge for ice cream. You see the prices have gone so high since the war," returned Mr. Parke.
They were passing through into the forward car as they conversed, and now the children had all they could do to balance themselves as the car swayed from side to side in its rapid flight on the tracks.
At last they were safely seated in the dining-car, but the ladies and Mr. Parke occupied one table for four, while the children occupied another across the aisle.
Every one studied the menu card diligently, but to the horror of the children the ice cream was forty cents per plate. Sandwiches were twenty cents each, and tea or coffee, or cocoa, was twenty cents per cup.
"Humph! We won't eat much at this rate!" grumbled George.
"I think it is much cheaper to have luncheon served on a table in the parlor car. We had a nice lunch, and I'm sure it wasn't as much as this," remarked Jack.
"Shall we whisper to father and ask him what he can afford to pay for?" suggested Martha.
But the waiter stood right at Mr. Parke's elbow writing down some words on a pad, so the children politely waited. When he finished and hurried away, George and Martha excused themselves to the other children, and crossed the aisle.
"What shall we order?" asked George.
"How much can you pay for?" added Martha.
Mrs. Parke looked in amazement, while aunty and Mrs. Graham laughed. Mr. Parke drew both children down so they could hear him whisper.
"I think you had better sit still and not order a thing. If the waiter comes up for your order send him to me. You see, Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Graham ordered so much that I shall have to pay for, that we will have to go hungry."
George sent an angry glance at the ladies who thus deprived him of necessary food for the rest of the journey, but Martha heaved a tremendous sigh, as she relinquished her hopes of a deep dish of ice cream.
Before the two food ambassadors were settled in their chairs again, a waiter hurried over and began arranging silver, bread and butter, and relishes before them.
The children exchanged glances, and as the man went away again, George said: "We won't say anything yet—not until he asks us to order."
But he failed to ask. When he next appeared, he carried cups of broth and placed them before the children. This done, he stooped and said to George, in a voice distinctly heard by those fearfully listening:
"Ah'm goin' to pile dat cream up high when yo' all is ready for dessert!"
Then winking understandingly at the doubtful faces, he went back to the kitchen.
George looked in the cup of broth and turned to glance at his father for instructions, but the elders were busy with their own broth. Then George decided upon a courageous measure.
"We need something and we didn't order this soup. If we take it now the ladies who ordered more than they should will have to cancel some of their dinner. Come on and drink the broth before we are told not to."
Thereupon, a great sipping and swallowing of hot liquid ensued, and soup, that despised item at home, was quickly enjoyed, for there was a dearth of more to follow—so thought the travellers about that table.
Before they were quite finished, however, fish was brought on and the waiter said: "Ah'm tol' to bring turkey wid cranberry sauce and candied sweets. Is dat all right foh de whole party?"
Then George suspected a hoax. He jumped up and caught his father trying to hide a smile back of his dinner napkin.
"Is this one of your practical jokes again?" demanded George.
But an answer was unnecessary when he laughed so heartily that the ladies joined in. George was disgusted as he turned and remarked:
"Well, you made us drink the soup, all right, and I s'pose we all want turkey, but just you wait till dessert comes along—we're each going to eat ten plates of ice cream and make you pay for it, too!"
With that threat ringing in his ears, it was a wonder Mr. Parke enjoyed his dinner, but he did, and when dessert was ordered he watched the children eat two great dishes each of ice cream, and never blinked at the bill presented to him for it.
"Oh, oh, but this is a bee-autiful station!" gasped George, when the tourists came from the train and entered the great domed concourse.
"Isn't it lovely? Look at the ceiling—all painted and lighted so fine!" sighed Martha, with satisfaction at art thus expressed.
"I should think everybody would get lost in this great place. Do you know where you are going, uncle?" said Jack, gazing first at the hurrying mobs going every way across the main hall to reach the numerous outlets.
"No, I am lost already! I shall have to ask a policeman to take us to the station-house for the night, so we can find ourselves again," replied Mr. Parke with a worried air, as he went over to speak to a man in uniform.
"Did he mean it?" whispered John to his mother.
She smiled and shook her head, as she replied: "He is going to order taxicabs to convey us to the hotel."
"What hotel are we going to?" wondered Martha.
"Well, seeing there are scores of fine hotels in New York, it is difficult to tell which one Mr. Parke will select," said Mrs. Parke.
Shortly after this the party was snugly seated in cabs and whirled away. There was no signboard over the door of the hotel so the children could not tell the name of it. At home, the hotel in the village where the store was, had a swinging sign to say that it was "The Washington Arms Hotel." But the uniformed men standing ready to open the doors, and the crowds of people sitting about reading or chatting were very interesting to the children. Palms, great easy chairs, clusters of electric lights—lights everywhere—made the scene one to be remembered.
"Must be something like the fine balls given Washington after the war," whispered Martha to her companions.
"If they only had on silk dresses and powdered wigs," returned John.
It was late in the afternoon when the party arrived at the hotel. Mr. Parke decided it would be useless to try and see any of the sights that day. Besides, they expected Mr. Davis every moment, as he said he would be waiting for them. But the train had been late, and he probably had become tired of waiting in the hotel lobby.
"I don't see how any one could tire of sitting down there and watching the fine folks," said Martha.
"If you saw things like that every day you'd soon weary of them," remarked Mrs. Davis.
And Martha wondered if Philadelphia were anything like New York, to make aunty speak of seeing such sights every day.
Before she had time to question about this interesting information, however, a cheery voice sounded outside of the large parlor they had with the suite of six rooms, and in came Mr. Davis.
After greetings were all over, Jack began: "Daddy, are we going to do anything to-day? We must not lose time, you know."
"Indeed no! Time is one of the things we can never find if it is once lost!" laughed Mr. Davis, patting Jack on the head.
"Well—then——" ventured Anne eagerly.
"I procured tickets for the 'Blue Bird' at the opera house to-night," replied Mr. Davis, showing the tickets to prove the wonderful news.
"Oo-oh! I've never been in a real live theatre before! We've gone to movies in the village—that's all!" cried John eagerly.
"Well, this is a real live one all right!" bragged Jack.
And so it was. It was an entrancing play, and the gowns of the audience, and the wonderful velvet curtains, and the gold boxes and trimmings of the opera house, all presented a dazzling sight. The visiting party had a large box quite near the stage, so that everything could be seen and heard.
The next morning Mrs. Graham left the others and started for her visit to her aunt, leaving John with his friends to accompany them on their historical tour of the city.
"The first thing I have on my program is a visit to the Statue of Liberty. As we will be near Governor's Island, we can have a look at the old fort there, and then on our way back to Battery Park, visit the Aquarium," said Mrs. Parke.
So they left the hotel to walk to a car.
"Is anything going on in New York to-day?" asked John.
"Not unusual.—Why?" wondered Mrs. Davis.
"Why, I see such a lot of people all running as if they were afraid of missing some big event," explained John.
The elders laughed. "That is the way New Yorkers always rush about. One would think their very lives depended upon the saving of a moment's time. And then they stand and stare at a silly advertisement, or listen to a street-corner peddler trying to sell his wares, and not only lose ten times the moments saved, but block the way for other sensible pedestrians, so that every one loses time," said Mr. Parke, who was escorting the ladies to the car.
At the head of a flight of steps, he started down.
"Where are you going, father?" cried Martha, aghast at her father's going down the cellar steps of some big house.
"To the train! Aren't you coming?"
"Train? I thought we were going to take one of these cars," exclaimed George, looking at a crosstown trolley.
"No, the subway takes us right down to South Ferry, where the boat leaves for Liberty Island," replied Mr. Parke.
This was a new experience. The children stared at the ceiled arch overhead, and wondered if it would cave in while they had to wait for a train. Then the roar and rush of a long, snake-like string of cars swung around the bend and came to a sudden jerky halt opposite them. It was the northbound train.
Then it rushed and roared out again, but before any one could catch his breath, another roar and rush sounded right before their very noses, and a brilliantly-lighted train of cars stopped beside the platform, and the guard shoved open the doors that had no handles or hinges.
They all hurried in, crowds behind pushing wildly to get in first. Inside, the long rows of seats on both sides of the cars were filled with all sorts of people, and our travellers were compelled to stand up in the aisle.
As the train went further downtown, the crowds increased until George said: "Every New Yorker must be travelling to South Ferry this morning."
At Brooklyn Bridge many of the passengers got out, and Mr. Parke pushed his party into seats—one here, one there, some down the aisle in vacancies. Before he could get back to a seat himself an entirely new mob of passengers rushed on, and violently struggled to crowd in between other seated fellow-beings.
"Say, Jack, I've been trying to figure up all the money this company made since we got on the cars at Grand Central," said George to his cousin.
"Yes, and I think it would be a good thing for you and me to plan about our future business careers. S'pose we open a subway line like this and run opposition. Besides making a lot of money easy, we will help the public, 'cause there won't be such a fearful crowd going on two lines as there is on one," said Jack with good logic.
"You're right! And what's more, we'll make our guards act politely to folks. I saw that horrid man slam the door right in an old man's face, as he was going to step inside! And those side doors were only opened once since we started, yet crowds of people waited outside and got left when the train pulled out of the station, and the guard leaned over the platform and laughed!" declared George, who, although on his first trip, saw conditions that make New Yorkers fume and fret, without redress anywhere.
At this moment the guard shouted, "South Ferry! All out!" Mr. Parke and the ladies caught hold of the children's hands to save them from being crushed between doors and passengers, and after climbing another flight of concrete steps, they all breathed the sweet, fresh air once more, and Martha said:
"Don't let us ever travel that way again! It's awful!"
"But think of the millions whohaveto travel that way, up to the Bronx or Washington Heights, or over to Brooklyn. There is no other way to get there except by foot, or paying several car-fares for changes of line," said Mr. Davis, who seemed thoroughly acquainted with conditions in New York.
However, the children forgot the annoyance of travel the moment they found the small steamer "Liberty Island" at the wharf. They all hurried on board, and were danced over the choppy waves of New York bay. On the sail over to the statue, they saw Ellis Island where the immigrants landed, Governor's Island of Revolutionary fame, the heights of Brooklyn just on the edge of the water, and then were landed at Liberty Island.
Troops were quartered here, and everything was under military discipline. Visitors were still permitted to the tower, but no one was allowed to go about the camps, or to question the men.
The elevator landed the children high up where the balcony encircles the statue, but Mrs. Parke declared that they were not going to mount the steep and winding stairs, as nothing was to be gained by climbing up the hundreds of steps. The view from the balcony was the same as up in the head.
As they walked around the outside of the figure, Mr. Parke told the children some interesting items about the statue.
"Bartholdi's statue named 'Liberty' was presented by the French people to the United States in 1885. It is the largest statue ever built. It was conceived by the famous French sculptor whose name it bears. It is said that the face is a likeness of his mother, who was his model for this renowned figure.
"It took eight years to construct the statue, and it weighed, when completed, 440,000 pounds. Of this, 146,000 pounds is copper and the balance iron and steel. The latter two metals were used to construct the skeleton framework of the inside.
"The mammoth electric light held aloft in the hand of this giantess is 305 feet above tide-water. The height of the figure is 152-1/2 feet; the pedestal is 91 feet, and the foundation 52 feet, 10 inches. Forty persons can stand at the same time in the top of the mighty head, which is 14-1/2 feet in diameter. The index finger of the hand is eight feet long, and the nose three and three-fourth feet. The colossus of Rhodes—once regarded as a world-wonder for its great size—is a pigmy in comparison with this figure."
The children listened to these stupendous figures, that gave them a good idea of the great work done on Liberty Statue, and were all the more interested in seeing the giant steel beams and bolts that held up the skeleton of the figure.
After they had gone down again and were walking about the base, while waiting for the return of the steamer to convey them back to New York, they listened to Mr. Parke describing the method of lighting at night, so that the entire statue seemed bathed in light. They looked at the great globes of electric lights grouped at various points of the stone parapet, and wondered at the unseen power that would reflect such brilliant illumination up at the figure as to make it plainly visible for miles across the sea.
On the sail back, the children saw the old fort where prisoners were kept herded together in great masses when the British took possession of New York and Long Island.
The Aquarium was visited, and after admiring the strange and beautiful fish in the glass tanks, the children found great sport waiting for the sea-lion to utter his fearful roar, as he flopped into the large tank of water, scattering water in every direction and thoroughly sprinkling the unwary who stood too near the railing.
Then Mr. Parke led his party across Battery Park to a triangular green.
"Who knows what this is?" asked he.
"Why, it's another stairway to the subway cellar," said Martha, who spied the sign over the entrance.
The ladies laughed, for they knew the right answer to the question; but the children had not the slightest clue to it.
"This is Old Bowling Green. Here the Dutch used to meet daily and play bowls, while the wives and children sat on the rude wooden benches placed on the outside and chatted or watched the game."
"Are there any more old places like this in New York?" asked John.
"Yes, I thought we might go over and visit the place called 'Ye Olde Taverne,' that has been carefully kept from mercenary realty investors all these years. There you will find the quaint old style of building in vogue during the time of Howe's victory over the American forces in New York. If the old beams and wood could but talk, what interesting tales of treason, patriotism, plotting and celebrating, it could tell us.
"As we will be right near the Stock Exchange after we leave Fraunces' Tavern, I will see if it is possible to have you visit and watch the buying and selling that goes on in the 'pit' every day. The Exchange closes at three, so we must not delay, if we would visit this scene."
The children followed eagerly as Mr. Parke led the way across Broadway and down lower Pearl Street to the quaint old gable-roofed building still intact after all these years. They gazed wide-eyed at this relic of Washington's period, and felt that the hero of their readings and play was very real indeed.
Coming out on Broad Street, they then went to the Stock Exchange building, but Mr. Parke discovered that no visitors were admitted there since war was declared. Only those known to be in business on the stock market were permitted to enter.
"Well, as long as we can't visit the Stock Exchange, we may as well stop at Wall Street and see the Subtreasury and Old Custom House."
Mr. Parke's suggestion met with approval, so they all followed him up the wide street known as Broad, passing the curb brokers, as they stood screaming and gesturing at each other.
"Oh, don't go so close to that street fight, uncle!" called Anne Davis, tugging at Mr. Parke's sleeve.
"What's the matter there, father? Is some one killed?" worried George, watching the mob anxiously.
"No, they are merely shouting out prices, or dealing in stocks. These are called curb brokers, because they have no 'seats' in the Exchange and cannot deal in there," said Mr. Parke.
"Do any of you children know why Wall Street has its name?" asked Mrs. Davis.
"I suppose because it does a wall of money business every day," ventured Jack, trying to be wise.
"No, it was Wall Street long before any stock market was founded in New York. It had a high, long wall crossing here from the East River to West Street, and back of this wall stood an old Dutch Colonial house, with fine orchards about it. So solid was this wall that the conflicting armies of the British and American sides found it very convenient for a refuge and protection. Then, too, when some old Dutchman or alien of New Amsterdam—for it was so called by the discoverer of the island, Hendrik Hudson, in 1609—wanted to designate a certain district of the town, he would say 'in front of the wall', or 'so-and-so distant from the wall,' until it began to be known as 'The Wall.' Then the lane that ran in front of it was becoming quite a thoroughfare, as so many people had to go about the area of land enclosed by the wall, that it gradually became known as 'Wall Street.'"
This information was very interesting to the children, and Mrs. Parke said: "Tell them about the purchase of this island."
"The land on which New York stands to-day was secured from the Indians for $24.00 worth of beads and trinkets in 1626, although the island was found by Hudson in 1609 on his voyage of discovery along the bay and up the Hudson River.
"In 1664 the English took it from the Dutch and changed the name to New York after the English nobleman. When Howe took it from Washington's army, his men were so reckless in their merry-making that fire broke out in a tavern down here and soon the wooden houses, with their dried-shingle roofs, were blazing. In that fire more than a thousand buildings were destroyed, and the fine old mansions of lower New York, then the fashionable section of Dutch and English wealth, were razed to the ground. The few places escaping the conflagration were those below this fire-line, or the homes better protected by owners, who kept a bucket-brigade at work to thoroughly soak the outside of the buildings."
"Now that we have seen the sights on Wall Street, what else can we see downtown?" asked Jack.
"Well, we can visit the old church here at the head of Wall Street, and then we can also visit the graveyard of the old church standing on the corner of Fulton and Broadway. Here we will find old flat stones marking graves made before the days of the Revolution; and some of the famous men we read about are buried in this busy section of lower New York. That will fill in our time until we start back uptown to the hotel," said Mr. Parke.
So the children wandered about the grass-covered burial spot, where centuries ago funerals of great men were held, and now old stones still showed the spots where they had been laid to rest.
So completely worn out were they from that well-filled day of sight-seeing, that all were ready for bed soon after dinner that evening. When Mr. Davis came in from a late business conference, no one felt like talking of the day's exploits.
Mr. Parke was to attend to his business the following day, and Mr. Davis offered to act as official guide to the party. John was sent uptown to his great-aunt in a taxicab and told to be sure and be on hand by ten the next day.
"What shall we visit to-day?" asked Mr. Davis, when all the travellers had gathered about the breakfast table in the morning.
"You know best—we want to see the forts and the places where they show things left by Washington," said George.
"I have been thinking that we may as well keep right on visiting from downtown up, taking in important points of interest on the way," suggested Mrs. Parke.
"We can. Then we ought to go down to City Hall Park and take in the sights from there on," replied Mrs. Davis.
The moment John arrived—which was fifteen minutes before the time set—they started out on their second day's trip.
At Old City Hall, with its park of ten acres, they saw the county court house, the Old Post Office and the famous Woolworth building, said to be the tallest in the world. Finding they could visit the tower, they all went up in an elevator and had a bird's-eye view of the great city, with its great ribbons of river winding along on two sides of it, forming the island of Manhattan, where East and North rivers met.
They saw the buildings where the New YorkWorld,The Tribune,The Sun,The Mail, and other papers were printed, and Mr. Davis secured permission for them to visit the plant in the Tribune building, so the children could watch the interesting process of turning out a daily newspaper.
After this, they went to the Hudson Tubes Terminal building and had luncheon at the restaurant before walking down the incline of Fulton entrance to the concourse underground. The very fact that so much business went on continually underground, while other business continued above on the streets, filled the children with amazement.
They saw the trains of the New York terminal come in and go out again, and were told how the tubes under the Hudson River had been built and were now conducted.
As a crowded train left the platform, Jack sighed: "The same old thing as in the subway. Not half enough seats for the crowds of people that travel. When we runourline we will see that every one who pays full price has a seat, or they won't have to pay but half fare."
"Your plan is most sensible, but no monopoly will ever consent to lose half a nickel that way while it can get full fare out of the travelling public that must reach certain destinations in a given time," replied Mr. Davis.
From the Hudson Tubes the visitors followed their guide crosstown again, and after walking a few blocks they again crossed City Hall Park. Here they entered the large Municipal building that stands near the entrance to Brooklyn Bridge.
"I think it would be a treat to take you over the bridge on a trolley car. As we cross I can explain all about the great cables that suspend this tremendous structure."
The children eagerly consenting, they were soon seated in a Flatbush trolley, Mr. Davis explaining during the ride the many interesting facts of the old Brooklyn Bridge structure.
In Brooklyn, Mr. Davis showed them in passing, the City Hall, and as they passed down the streets so similar to the busy thoroughfares of New York, Anne said:
"I don't see why they changed the name of these two towns; they are just alike and ought to be called by the same name."
"They tried that some years ago," replied Mrs. Parke. "This is all known now as Greater New York, but we are now on the Brooklyn section of it, while on the other side of the river it is known as Manhattan. Then there is the Bronx section, and the Washington Heights or Van Courtlandt sections."
On the way through Flatbush the children saw a number of genuine old houses, still standing since the time of the occupation of Long Island by the British.
"It is no wonder the American army was overpowered here by General Howe," remarked Mrs. Davis. "The British had more than 30,000 men in its army and navy—all well-trained soldiers, with plenty of food, clothing, and camp equipment to keep them in good trim. Poor Washington had only a scattered force of less than 11,000 men, with scant rations, ragged clothes, no beds or tents for half of them, and constantly having to go from one spot to the other to defend that point."
"Yes, and when we remember how badgered the Americans were, by not being sure where the English would strike first—landing on Staten Island as they did, and swarming in their fleet of battleships, transports, sloops-of-war and floating batteries of guns up the East River, along the Hudson and about the bay so that it would have taken a dozen armies to keep watch of their many maneuvers," added Mrs. Parke.
"Then when Howe so arranged his army that one regiment threatened from one side, another from another side, and the main army from the rear, what were the Americans to do but fight or give up?" said Mr. Davis, while the children listened eagerly to this history, which was very real when on the ground of the scenes.
"Had it not been for that master-stroke of Washington's, when he had but one tiny hope left to save his men—retreat and move over the East River during the heavy fog, what might have been the final result of that war? When we think of the way he handled that great army of sick, hungry, weary and wounded men, discouraged and broken-spirited as each one was, and inspired them with enough will-power and patriotism to brace up and start in absolute silence and under cover of the fog, to cross the deep and dangerous current of the river on flat-bottomed boats, we, at this late day, but faintly feel the great praise due him; and to think that not one man was lost or injured in that transport work!"
"It must have been a terrible blow to Howe, when he discovered his birds all flown in the morning and no one knew how or when!" Jack chuckled in hearty enjoyment.
"I wish I had been there to laugh in his face!" declared George.
"Huh! You wouldn't have laughed long or very loud—he would have clapped you in irons and thrown you into one of those wet, filthy, dark holes he used for the American prisoners!" said John.
"Well, even if I wasn't at the battle scene of Long Island, I would have loved to stand in front of the Old City Hall on Wall Street on that Fourth of July, 1776, and listen to Washington read from the balcony the Declaration of Independence to his army. How that must have cheered them up and made them willing to fight all England!" said George, with emphasis.
Mr. Davis hired an automobile when the party reached the end of the Flatbush ride, and took the children to Gowan's Cove, to Wallabout Market, which used to be called "Walla Bouche" by the Walloons, who settled this section of Brooklyn. They also passed the Gowanus Canal of historic fame, and many other places, stopping at Fort Hamilton to be able to see Governor's Island at close range, as no visitors were admitted on the Island since the declaration of war on Germany.
On the way back from Fort Hamilton, the sight-seeing party visited the Throgg's Neck, Red Hook, and other districts where battles had occurred; but so modernized were these spots, that no one would have dreamed that any disastrous battle had ever taken place there.
The next day, both gentlemen being free to escort the party about the city, they started at nine o'clock to get in a full day. John was on hand right on the minute, and they started out by visiting Central Park first. The great Egyptian obelisk, brought across seas from Alexandria in 1880, was studied, but no one could decipher the strange symbols carved on its surface.
"It is called 'Cleopatra's Needle,' and is said to be the finest specimen of old Egyptian monuments in existence," said Mr. Parke, focussing a camera to take a picture of it.
Then they visited the Museum of Art, where treasures of all kinds are to be found: paintings, statuary, collections of stones, jewels, antiques of all kinds, and a famous collection of tapestries.
The zoo proved to be a diversion from the other sights, and could the children have remained long enough, it is quite certain that the monkeys would have been made ill by all the peanuts fed them.
From the museum and zoo, the children were taken to the Museum of Natural History, on the Park Annex grounds, located on 77th Street and Central Park West. Here, too, they found interesting things: all sorts of stuffed birds, animals and American relics. Of all the animals, the dinosaur interested them the most, for its great size and queer snout.
"Now we'll cross to Riverside Park and visit the Sailors' Monument, which is considered one of the finest erected to our marines," said Mr. Davis.
"And when we finish that, we will get on a bus and ride up to Grant's Tomb and let the kiddies see the great monument raised by a grateful people to the general of the Civil War," added Mr. Parke.
"We haven't seen Washington's Arch down at Washington Square yet," reminded George, fearful of missing something.
"I know, but I thought it would be fine to get on a Fifth Avenue bus when we finish Columbia University on the Heights, and complete our college tour with the City College on 137th Street and Amsterdam Avenue, and ride all the way downtown along Riverside Park to 72nd Street, thence to Fifth Avenue. Down that famous avenue we can see many interesting buildings and sights, and at last we will jump off at Washington Square," promised Mr. Parke.
So the time flew rapidly by while the different places were visited, and finally the tired group almost rolled from the bus when it reached Washington Square. Here they took but half interest in the great arch erected to the memory of Washington, and all were thankful enough to get on another bus to ride uptown to the hotel.
"Oh, I'm glad we haven't all Europe to see like this!" sighed Martha, throwing herself on a couch the moment they entered the parlor of the suite.
"Poor John! I think I will telephone his mother and ask her to allow him to remain with us for to-night," said Mrs. Parke, when she saw the drooping eyelids of the weary boy.
"Oh do, please, and then I won't have to get up so awfully early in the morning. Why, Great-aunt Belinda makes every one in her household rise at six o'clock, and we breakfast at seven," said John, revealing the cause of his prompt arrival each morning at the hotel.
John was given permission to remain that night, and Mrs. Graham added that she would be down herself at nine in the morning to accompany her friends to Washington's Headquarters, where they proposed to visit the next day.
Every one was hungry, and when they had gathered about the dining-room table, full justice was done the viands served in the restaurant. While waiting for dessert (the children had ice cream every time) Mr. Davis remarked:
"Any one want to go to the theatre to-night? I had some tickets reserved for a play that is said to be very good."
"Do you mean us, too, when you say 'any one'?" asked Anne.
"Goodness, no! You youngsters are too tired," laughed her father.
"Oh, no, we're not! We're never too tired for fun," replied Jack quickly.
"I think it will be very nice to see a play, Sam," said Mrs. Parke, thanking him for the suggestion.
"Well, then we must hurry and not miss the whole of the first act. Couldn't we leave the children to go to bed alone for this time?" asked Mr. Parke.
"I'll ask the chambermaid to see that they are all right and have what they want," said Mrs. Parke.
"Mother, if you all are going to have a good time, why can't we have ice cream and cake for a treat up in the parlor?" begged Anne.
"Why, you're having ice cream now!" exclaimed Mrs. Davis.
"But this is dessert—upstairs it will be a party!" cried Jack.
The elders laughed, and promised that Maggie, the maid, should be told to give the children a party as they desired.
After the elders had gone, the five children gathered in the parlor waiting for Maggie's appearance. She was having her supper, and said she would be upstairs in a short time.
"Do you know, we haven't played war in thelongesttime—I've almost forgotten how!" sighed George.
"That's 'cause we had so much other stuff to do," replied Martha.
"I wish we could play Nathan Hale and the British now," ventured Jack.
"You just can't in a place full of furniture—no trees, no grass, no creek to play with," remonstrated George.
"It's 'most eight o'clock. Maggie should be finished with her supper long ago," said Martha, getting up to peep out of the door to see if there were any signs of the maid in the long hallway.
To her great delight she saw Maggie coming down the soft carpeted corridor, and soon after, she knocked at the door.
"Is you'se all right in here?" questioned Maggie.
"As right as can be without that ice cream," retorted George.
Maggie grinned. "Yer mudder said you'se were to have it sent up at eight-thirty. I th'ot like as how I'd stop to see if I wuz wanted for anything and if not, I'd run upstairs to get the clean towels for your rooms."
"Run ahead, and don't be behind time with the cream," agreed Jack, sighing, as he took up a magazine from the center table.
"This is a tiresome life when there's nothing to kill time with," also sighed George, after Maggie had gone.
"Let's have a pillow fight," suggested Martha.
"Come on, boys, that'll be better than nothing," added Anne, taking the magazine from her brother.
John was spending the night with them, so the five had quite a lively time in the fight, until the clock on the mantel chimed eight-thirty.
"Time for the cream!" shouted George, picking up the down that had escaped from the pillows while batting them back and forth.
The children waited fully five minutes for Maggie and the cream, and then Jack declared he would not stand for such neglect! He took up the telephone from the wall near the door and asked the clerk to find out where Maggie was.
The clerk ascertained that Maggie was the maid for their floor, and said she had been sent upstairs to help another maid who was ill that evening. He would let her know that she was wanted.
Five minutes more passed by, and still no Maggie. Then George had a brilliant idea.
"I'll run and scout for her. I've never been anywhere about this hotel, except down in the dining-room and entrance. I'll have a look around, and find her at the same time."
"I'll go with you," suggested Jack.
"Can't we go, too?" asked the girls.
"No, girls mustn't wander around like this, but John may come if he likes," replied George, going out into the corridor.
Not wishing to let the elevator boy know they were on a tour of inspection, the three boys walked up to the next floor. A corridor exactly the same as the one they were on, was the only thing to see. Voices were heard—seemingly from the floor above.
"That must be Maggie upstairs," said Jack.
So up another flight they went, and found a couple at the head of the stairs talking loudly to a deaf old lady. Maggie was not to be seen. The three strangers got on the elevator, and the three boys walked down the length of the corridor. Almost at the extreme length of it, a door stood open, and the boys were sure Maggie would be in that room, very probably making it ready for guests.
"My, this is an awful big house," remarked John.
"Almost like a canyon—these high, dark corridors," said Jack.
"It would be great sport trying to catch a spy running away from us down these gulleys and mountain-steps," grinned John.
By this time the boys had reached the end of the hallway, and stood looking in at the opened door of the room; but it was not a guest-room. It was a store-room of some sort. The door had been left open by mistake, most likely, for no one was about on the entire length of the corridor.
"It must be a junk room," said George.
"They keep old half-worn stuff in it, I guess," added Jack, glancing at the shelves on one side, piled up with miscellaneous items.
"Oh! Look at all the bellboys' uniforms! All colors, different from what some of them wear now," said John.
"Maybe they're here to be repaired or for extra help," suggested George.
The boys stood looking over the motley assortment of things, when suddenly Jack exclaimed:
"What do you say to playing war? Let's dress up in the old uniforms and have some sport!"
"Say!" admired John, looking at Jack with envy.
George said not a word in reply, but looked up and down the corridor to see if any one was about. It was empty and quiet.
"Let's take one each, and two for the girls," whispered George, tiptoeing into the room and selecting a green cloth suit, trimmed with gold braid and brass buttons. After holding it up against him to gauge the size, he threw it over his arm, and then selected a similar suit for Martha. John also found a uniform about his size, and Jack took two—one for himself and one for Anne.
Just as the three raiders reached the head of the stairway, they heard the elevator coming up to that floor. Quick as a flash, they slid down the first section of the stairs, to let the elevator continue past the floor before they ran down the other flights.
Into the parlor bounced the three boys, laughing and bursting with plans for a campaign. The two girls had grown tired of waiting for the boys and Maggie, and were watching the crowds on the brilliantly-lighted street many stories below.
"What do you think? A battle in New York!" cried Jack, throwing the uniforms on the floor.
"Now we can have some fun!" added George.
"Oh, where'd you find them?" asked Martha and Anne in one breath.
"Never mind where—get into them and let's go to war," retorted John, taking his uniform to one of the bedrooms.
The outer door from the parlor to the corridor was well secured against surprise, and then the children quickly dressed in the uniforms. Canes left by the two gentlemen, and umbrellas, were perfectly satisfactory guns for the soldiers. One after the other they appeared in the parlor, and laughingly admired one another.
"Now what? We're all ready," said John.
"Martha, twist up your curls! Soldiers can't have such hair when they fight!" scorned George.
So Martha ran to her mother's room and pinned up her hair, keeping it on top of her head by dragging her father's travelling cap over it.
The boys also got their caps, and then they stood in line while George drilled them.
"This room is too small for any fun," said Jack.
"Can't we parade down the hallway? If we hear any one coming we can hide," suggested Martha.
The others exchanged looks. That was a tempting idea.
"Might as well. No one is about as early as this," said Jack.
"Come on, then! George, you're general, you know, so you must go first," advised Anne.
Nothing loath, George opened the door softly and peeped out. "All's quiet on the Brandywine!" reported George, going out on tiptoes.
Once out in the hall, however, the five Yanks seemed to lose their nerve. First Anne rushed back to the parlor, then Martha followed. Finally, the three boys came tumbling in, for no other cause than that they thought they heard footsteps somewhere.
"You're a lot of cowards! If Washington ever had to fight with runaways like you two, I pity him!" sneered George.
"Well, didn't you run back, too?" exclaimed Martha.
"Only to see what you girls were after! We're going out now and march properly!" declared Jack.
"So'll we—this time!" promised Anne.
Again the army sallied forth, George telling them that they had to storm the heights of Brooklyn and Harlem to hold the forts in New York.
The general marched his army down the whole length of the corridor without meeting any one, and then they stormed the stairs at the end of the hallway. Up on the next floor they marched again, and not a soul was there to watch or applaud, although the uniformed army marched as well as a squad of bellboys—in fact, they resembled them closely.
"Now, men! Howe and his men are climbing up the ridge and we must fight on the Heights or be captured!" warned the general, waving his cane at the next flight of stairs.
Up this flight swarmed the five Continentals, and at the top they turned to shoot down any English that dared to follow; but no one was to be seen.
The general held a council of war with his army. What was there to do in this terrible extremity—the East River on one hand, the different regiments of the British on two sides, and Howe, with his main army, back of them?
"There's only one thing left for us—to cross the river in the fog and gain New York again," declared George.
"How can we cross, when there is nothing to cross?" asked Anne, with great lack of imagination.
"Oh, if our creek were only here, wouldn't it be a lark!" sighed Martha.
"Why, this hallway is our river, can't you see? The fog is so thick one can hardly tell which is land and which is water, but we can cross it all right, if you only follow me!" cried Washington courageously.
Down the whole length of the corridor he tore, eagerly followed by his four men, and reaching the stairway at the end he rushed up to the next floor.
This happened to be the top floor, and the roof, which was used in summer as a garden dining-room, and was now deserted, except for a few tubs of greens and some odd chairs standing about, was at the top of the next flight.
In marching the army from the East River to camp in New York, George found the roof and exulted in the spot.
"Just the place for an engagement! We can hide behind the palm trees and shoot at each other when one of us tries to cross the city. Two of us have to be British, though."
"John and I will be English, and the girls and you will be Yanks," said Jack, looking around to make sure no one was about.
"If we only had some of those apples for ammunition! Do you remember how soft and squashy they were when they hit you in the head?" laughed John, at the memory of that conflict on the creek.
"Well, this must be a bayonet fight. No guns or cannon on hand, you see, and the men at close quarters," said George.
So, making their fortifications of the tables and chairs waiting to be removed to the storehouse of the hotel, and then taking their places as American and British armies, the two sides opened warfare over the possession of New York City.
The battle waged furiously in the semi-light of the electric brilliancy which reflected from the dazzling advertising signs of the city. Both sides tried to capture each other and make them prisoners, which would end the war, but all five were agile and experienced warriors.
While Howe and Washington were engaged on the roof, Maggie had finished her extra tasks, and suddenly remembered the children. She hastily ordered the ice cream and cake to be sent up, and hurried to the suite to humbly apologize for her tardiness.
She knocked softly at the door, while framing excuses.
No one answered.
She knocked again—this time much louder, but still no one answered. Quickly then, she opened the door and found all quiet and no one in the parlor. Some odds and ends of clothing—such as George's shoes, and Jack's coat, lay on the floor.
"Poor little dears! They waited jest as long as they could an' then they got tired and went to bed widout that cream!" said Maggie, opening a bedroom door softly to bless the little sleeping darlings. But not a bed was disturbed.
Maggie hurried from one room to the other, to find clothes scattered about in each room, but not a sign of the children.
"Oh, oh, oh! What has happened to thim children? Here I was told to watch thim, and now there ain't nothing but clothes to watch!" cried the distressed Maggie, as she hurried for the door leading to the main corridor.
Half beside herself with fear of the unknown, Maggie flung the door open, and was about to rush out, when she collided with the waiter, who carried the tray of ice cream and cake. As can be expected from such an impact, the tray crashed to the floor, mixing cake, cream and broken dishes well together.
The waiter shouted and berated Maggie, and she pulled at her hair and rolled her eyes upward, crying: "What shall I do? What shall I do? Thim children is kidnapped er else they've run away!"
The waiter quickly ran in to inspect the premises, and came back with a fearful idea: "Black Hand again! The city's full ov thim, and these folks are rich, yo' know, an' kin pay the reward!"
Maggie and the waiter rushed down, down and down, the many flights of stairs, never stopping to take an elevator, and then ran breathlessly up to the desk to stammer hoarsely:
"Children gone! Clothes laying everywhere, and kidnappers carried them off!"
It caused a tremendous commotion. Every one within hearing crowded up to the clerk and wanted to know who was gone, where the thieves went, what floor the burglary took place on, and many other exciting questions.
The proprietor was called out to quell the disturbance, but long before he reached the lobby, dozens of guests and callers streamed up the endless flights of steps to examine the vacant suite of rooms.
Some of the guests, who had not heard distinctly on which floor the kidnappers had found the children, climbed to the top flight. Suddenly a nervous woman clutched her husband's arm.
"Oh, oh! Those wicked men are on the roof with the dears! Hear them shouting and things bumping about up there?" cried she.
Instantly the man, who had powerful lungs, leaned over the stair-rail and bawled down:
"Come up! Come up! The thieves are on the roof ready to throw the children down to the street if they don't stop crying!"
That brought the endless line of excited folks up and up the remaining flights of stairs, until all could quite plainly hear the noise on the roof overhead.
Suddenly a voice yelled: "Surrender! I got you cornered."
The words were ominous, but the voice was boyish. Maggie recognized it as the leader of the party of children, and she ran recklessly up to grapple with the fierce kidnappers, should it be necessary to help Mister George capture the rascals.
The guests followed closely after the brave maid, and as the crowd pushed out upon the roof, they beheld a stacked-up rampart of tables and chairs and five bellboys in a close struggle with each other.
"Where are the stolen children?" cried Maggie, rushing over to the boys, with whom she was quite at home, and, in fact, felt she was their superior.
At the unexpected interruption, the contending forces separated and looked about. To their consternation, scores of wondering people stood near the door of the roof, staring at the five boys. The cap and hairpins of one had slipped from his (or her) head, and yellow curls blew about her head in the breeze.
George never lost his presence of mind for an instant, although he feared this surprise meant the total collapse of both armies. He called to the four children:
"Attention!"
Instantly the four stood erect and took up their arms.
"Shoulder arms!"
The four obeyed.
"Form line!"
This was also done, to the unbelief of the audience.
"Forward—March!" cried George, taking his place at the head of the line.
They started and marched directly for the door leading to the roof, where crowds of curious guests stood gaping. As the army reached the doorway, the people fell back on both sides and the victorious general led his men down the stairs, down, down, down, followed by the throng, now laughing and gesticulating as wildly as any New Yorker can when he has been well fooled!