Babbie’s ghost was Queen Victoria, Betty’s Becky Sharp, Madeline’s Carlyle, and Babe’s Lord Bacon.
“What a collection!” laughed Madeline. “Perhaps we can take in some of the others on our way to the ‘Cheshire Cheese.’ Hand me the Baedeker please, Babe.”
But John objected. “We’ve got to make perfectly sure of Dr. Johnson first,” he said firmly. “What’s the use of choosing a ghost if you don’t keep to him? Besides, remember, I got down here only late last evening. If we have any extra time, I want to go and register my address at the American Express office and get my mail. I’m expecting an important letter.” John looked at Babe impressively.
After much lively discussion it was voted to walk to the “Cheshire Cheese,” or at least to walk until some one got tired. It would be so much more convenient for showing John the sights. And, as Madeline observed, pretty nearly everything in London is a sight in one way or another, so that it was really lunch-time when John and Babe, who were ahead, suddenly turned down a dark little alley and waited at the corner for the rest to come up.
“Is the ‘Cheshire Cheese’ in here?” asked the fastidious Babbie doubtfully. “Well, this certainly looks like a splendid place for ghosts,” she added, diving down the alley after the others.
John pointed ahead to the quaint old swinging sign that read “Ye Old Cheshire Cheese.” It was a tiny little inn, the one small dining-room opening right on to the street. A waiter came bustling forward to meet the party.
“Good-morning,” said John gravely, looking inquiringly around the room. “Which is Dr. Johnson’s chair, please?”
The waiter bowed and pointed to a seat in one corner against the wall.
“Oh, I see, he’s not here yet,” said John solemnly. “We were hoping to find him. Well, I suppose we’d better sit down and have something to eat while we wait.” He led the way to the doctor’s table.
The waiter, wearing a perplexed expression, pulled out the chairs,—John insisting that Dr. Johnson’s seat should be left vacant,—and recited the menu for the day.