“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 123 overwhelming reverence for this great architectural masterpiece—exalted resting place of England’s noblest men.