“Would it take too much time to see the Mint?” asked James. “I shouldn’t want to suggest it if it will take too long, but it would be awfully interesting.”
“I had the Mint on my list,” said Mrs. Morton, tapping her forehead.
“I’ll transfer it from that spot to paper,” laughed Roger.
“I hope we can get the same chauffeur we had yesterday,” said Ethel Brown; “he knew a lot about things.”
“I suppose he’s accustomed to driving tourists,” replied her mother.
As good fortune would have it they were able to secure the same car, and the good-natured driver beamed at them, as they stowed themselves away as they had the day before. Mrs. Morton told him the chief “sights” which they wanted to see, and directed him to point out anything that they passed which would have some interest for the young people.
First they went over to the old part of the town along the Delaware, to find one of the churches of which Mrs. Morton had spoken. On the way they stopped at Christ Church. Its high box pews seemed to them full of dignity, and they imagined the elaborately arranged head-dresses of the ladies and powdered wigs of the gentlemen, rising above the old-fashioned seats. The pulpit was high up on one side of the chancel.
“This is the church that was presided over by Bishop White, the first Episcopal bishop of Pennsylvania,” said Mrs. Morton. “He was influential in organizing the Episcopal Church in this country.”
Out in the graveyard, whose quiet seemed strangely out of place amid the hurry of the city, they found many stones bearing well-known names, among them that of Benjamin Franklin.
“He died in 1790,” read Delia, from the stone. “Wasn’t that just about the time Washington was elected President?”