The reason and the will.—Milnes.
Next morning, over an early breakfast, our party discussed, with their tea, toast, muffins, and fried soles, the programme of the week.
How crowded their life in London was getting to be. Every day, every hour, nay, every moment, we might say, pre-engaged!
“We go to Westminster Abbey first. The Seymours are to go with us, and are to join us here at ten o’clock. It is After nine now,” said the General, as he chipped his egg.
“They will not be behind time, you may depend on it,” laughed Dick. “We shall be able to get off by ten o’clock, and get into the Abbey by a quarter past. It will take us at least three hours to do Westminster, which will bring one o’clock or a little later, when we can get lunch at Simmon’s, in Threadneedle Street,—an old-established house, celebrated for its green turtle and its punch this century past. After which we will still have time to see St. Paul’s, and to get home in season for our five o’clock dinner.”
“And remember, Dick, that we must not be later, for we have a box this evening at Drury Lane, to see the Keans.”
“All right, Anna! we are not likely to forget that.”
“And let us see! what is the programme for to-morrow?” inquired the General.
“I do not think that has been arranged yet,” said Drusilla.
“Then let it be the British Museum and the Royal Academy.”