"Well, Dick, what are you going to do to-morrow?" inquired Fosdick, on the evening previous.
"I was expecting an invitation to ride in a barouche with the mayor," said Richard; "but probably he forgot my address and couldn't send it. On the whole I'm glad of it, being rather bashful and not used to popular enthusiasm."
"Shall you go out and see the procession?" continued Fosdick.
"No," said Dick; "I have been thinking of another plan, which I think will be pleasanter."
"What is it?"
"It's a good while since we took an excursion. Suppose we go to Fort Hamilton to-morrow."
"I should like that," said Fosdick. "I was never there. How do we get there?"
"Cross over Fulton Ferry to Brooklyn, and there we might take the cars to Fort Hamilton. It's seven or eight miles out there."
"Why do you say 'might' take the cars?"