Mrs. Holiday was very unwilling to prevent Mr. George from ascending as high as he desired, but she was afraid to go up any farther herself, and she was unwilling to stay where she was with
the children while he should be gone. It seemed as if the whole of the lofty mass on which she was standing was toppling, ready to fall, and that the first breath of wind that should come would blow it down, cupola, dome, and galleries, all together.
"How much farther is it to the top?" said she, timidly.
"A hundred feet," said the guide.
Mrs. Holiday looked more alarmed than ever.
"A hundred feet!" exclaimed Mr. George. "Why, I thought we were nearly at the top; and yet there are a hundred feet more! A hundred feet is equal to a house ten or twelve stories high!
"I don't know that it is worth while for us to go up any higher," continued Mr. George, speaking to Mrs. Holiday, "unless you wish it."
"No," said Mrs. Holiday; "I am sure I don't wish to go any higher."
"Very well," said Mr. George to the guide; "we will not go."
So the guide set out with the young men alone.