At her first sight of the rock, the Plymouth Rock of history and poetry, Martine gave a gasp of surprise. It was so much smaller than she had expected. The little guide-book that Mrs. Danforth had put in her hands told her that from 1775 to 1880 the rock had been in two pieces, and that one piece was for a long time exhibited in Pilgrim Hall; but at last a generous son of Plymouth, feeling that the rock deserved greater honor, had had the two pieces put together on a spot that was probably very near the place that it occupied in 1620, and had had it protected by granite canopy and an iron fence.
"Why, it looks as though I could almost carry it away myself; it's hardly large enough for a good-sized man to stand on."
"Oh, two or three men could stand on it," said the literal George, who thereupon began to make calculations to convince Martine of her error.
Martine, somewhat amused by George's earnestness, began to tease the little fellow.
"Do you really believe that this rock was here in the time of the Pilgrim Fathers?"
"Why, yes, where else could it have been?"
To this question Martine had no answer ready, and before she had made a second attempt to puzzle George, an old gentleman who had been standing near them stepped up.
"You are not skeptical, young lady, about the famous rock?"
"Oh, no," replied Martine; "I don't know enough about it to be skeptical."
The old gentleman glanced at her quizzically.