"How much are sixty guilders?" asks the little girl. It sounds an immense sum to her. And to buy a whole city!
"It was about twenty-four dollars at that time," replies Stephen.
The little girl's face is amusing in its surprise.
"Only twenty-four dollars! And father had three hundred a few days ago. Why, he could have bought"—well, the limitless area takes away her breath.
"I don't believe we should have wanted to live in such a wilderness as it was then."
"But when Walter the Testy came—he was really here?" It is rather chaotic in her mind.
"He was here. Wouter van Twiller was his real name. Then a line of Dutch governers, after which the island was ceded to the British. It became quite a Royalist town until the Revolutionary War. We had a 'scrap' about tea, too," and Stephen laughs. "Old Castle Clinton was a famous spot. And when General Lafayette, who had helped us fight our battles, came over in 1824, he had a magnificent ovation as he sailed up the bay. It's a splendid old place."
Everybody seemed to think so then. The birds were singing in the sunshine, and the rural aspect was dear to the hearts of the older people. They rose and walked about in the fragrant air. Now and then some one bowed gravely to Stephen. There was a Sunday decorum over all.
They rambled up to the Bowling Green. Some quaintly attired elderly people who had the entrée of the place were sitting about enjoying the loveliness. One old Frenchman had a ruffled shirt-front and a very high coat-collar that made him look like a picture, and knee-breeches.
Some one sprang up, and coming to the gate said: "Oh, Mr. Underhill, and Miss Margaret! Is this your little sister? Do walk in and chat with us. My sister Jane and I have come down to dine with the Morrises, and it was so lovely out here. Isn't it a charming day?"