"But there's a lovely view," said Priscilla, "and the first fort stood up there, and some people like old gravestones."
"To be perfectly frank," said Martine, "I don't care so very much for them, unless the inscriptions are entertaining. Don't look shocked, Prissie, epitaphs can be very amusing sometimes. But what would you like to show me, Marcus?"
"Oh, I'd like to take you out into the woods for mayflowers, for one thing, and over to Duxbury to see the Standish monument for another; but I just hate poking about the town, looking for old houses and ruins the way some people do; for we haven't any ruins here."
"Then I suppose you wouldn't condescend to show me Plymouth Rock? For that, of course, is one of the things I must see."
"Oh, I'll take you there!" interrupted George; "let's go right after breakfast."
"Very well, I'll be ready; and thank you for your invitation."
And Martine, bending toward the little fellow, kissed him good-night. As she turned away, George reddened with delight; it was pleasant to be treated as if he were as old as Marcus; for Marcus, his elder by two years, had a brotherly habit of making him feel himself to be of the slightest consequence in the estimation of strangers.
Promptly after breakfast Martine set out with George.
"I know you won't mind my leaving you, Priscilla," she said. "You and your mother must have so many things to talk over."
"Thank you; a little later I will go join you, but I know that George will show you just what you wish to see;" and Priscilla kissed Martine good-bye.