Elizabeth drew her dripping hand from the water and took up one of the pyramids.
“I never thought I could understand it so clearly,” she said, “and now if I could only remember about the Barbary pirates and the merchant marine, I really could be almost sure of going to college.”
“Barbary pirates?” repeated Miss Miranda. “I happen to know something of them, myself. How do they come to trouble you when they have all been dead so long?”
“Oh, I just don’t seem to be able to remember when they lived, or what they did,” Betsey sighed. “They seem to come in that dull middle period in the history, between the Revolution and the Civil War, when nothing particular ever seemed to happen and most of the Presidents were men whose names you never heard before. It’s all very difficult.”
“Do you remember,” returned Miss Miranda, “that little green tree that you saw in my toy cupboard, the first day that you came? It was put there by my great-grandfather, who fought against those self-same pirates and helped to put an end to their wrongdoing. If I should tell you how he came into possession of the tree, I believe you could remember better what happened in those early days and how America built up her shipping, that merchant marine about which I have heard you groan. Would you like to hear?”
“We would,” answered the two in a single breath.
“And may I go and bring the tree to show David?” Elizabeth asked. She scarcely waited for permission but was off down the path having quite forgotten her former weariness.
Michael was sitting on the bench as Miss Miranda had said, and would not even respond to her greeting as she passed. He had been so friendly of recent days that she stopped, surprised, and turned back to question him.
“What is the matter Michael? Is it really the black cat that troubles you so?”
“Matter enough,” he returned morosely, “even without the black cat. There has been trouble brewing for long and I am thinking it is about to break.”