“Yes, that’s it, Phil. Give me plenty to do, and I’ll be better able to keep that promise I made yer.”
Accordingly Phil and Tony laid out a couple of shillings in a guide, and commenced systematically to investigate the sights of London, commencing with the Tower, where a regiment of Guards was quartered, and turning their attention next to the British Museum, which itself occupied several days.
“We must do the thing thoroughly,” said Phil, as, book in hand, he and Tony strolled through one of the larger rooms. “I’ll tell you what will be a good plan. We’ll pay a visit to the map room, look up a certain country, and then investigate whatever curios there happen to be from that part.”
“I’m with yer, Phil,” Tony answered cheerfully, wishing to please his companion, and secretly imbued with a firm determination to make up as much as possible for his ignorance. “But you’ll have to show me everything. I don’t suppose I’d be able to tell the difference between a map of France and one of England. You’d better start with the lot, and point ’em out one by one.”
Anxious to improve his humble friend, Phil took up his education in this way with zest, and spent hours in scanning a map of the world. So deeply interested did they become that on the second day they did not observe that a little man, dressed in respectable black, and wearing a large white stock, had stolen up behind them, and with smiling face, and eyes which peered through a pair of glasses, was peeping over their shoulders and listening with interest to the harangue which Phil was delivering for the benefit of Tony.
“There’s the Black Sea, communicating with the Mediterranean by means of this narrow channel,” Phil was remarking, as he placed his finger on the Dardanelles, and ran it up and down to show the communication between the two seas. “There’s Turkey, and there’s Russia; and it’s between those two countries that war is imminent.”
“Then Russia and the Czar, or whatever he’s called, ought to be ashamed of theirselves, that’s all I’ve got to say,” answered Tony with disgust. “See what a size the first one is. Why, the other’s only a baby.”
“She’ll fight for all that, Tony, so people say, but why or for what I don’t know. Russia wants something, and Turkey says ‘No’. Russia has answered that she will have it or war, and now I believe the Sultan is on the point of replying.”
“Yus, that’s clear enough, young un, but what about Old England? Where does she come in? Why should she fight Russia when the row’s between the Czar and the Sultan? It beats me altogether.”
“And me too, Tony. I’m in a regular fog.”