CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WARWICK AND KENILWORTH CASTLES
The bicycles were returned to their owner in Stratford, and Mrs. Pitt’s plan was to drive to Warwick and Kenilworth the following day. Consequently it was a great disappointment at breakfast-time to see gray and threatening clouds overhead, from which rain very soon began to descend. The day was also very cold, and such a chilling wind was blowing and whistling around the corners of the hotel, that fires were lighted in all the tiny grates.
“Whoever heard of such cold weather in June!” John protested, not in the best of spirits at being shut up in the house. “It’s horrid, I say! Ugh! If my fur coat was here, I should put it on, and then get inside the fireplace, too.”
At this very dismal burst of feeling from John, Mrs. Pitt came to the rescue, suggesting a game of billiards. John brightened very considerably after this, and the remainder of the day was pleasantly spent in writing letters, playing games, and reading aloud from Scott’s “Kenilworth,” in preparation for the morrow’s visit to that castle.
“Just think of seeing the very spot in the garden where Queen Elizabeth met Amy Robsart! And perhaps the same room where she slept. Oh, I can hardly wait till morning!” sighed Betty rapturously. “Kenilworth” had long been one of her favorite books.
At bedtime Mrs. Pitt, inwardly rather uncertain about the prospects of the weather, was outwardly most cheerful with her assurance that she “felt sure it would be fine in the morning.”
Mrs. Pitt was “usually right about things,” as the children had long since discovered, and this proved no exception to the rule. The sun shone brightly on the morrow, and the whole country-side looked as though it had been washed and cleaned so as to appear at its loveliest for the visitors.
The drive through Leamington revealed a very pretty watering-place, with baths, parks, gay streets of shops, and many neat little private villas, each being dignified by a name.
“How do they ever find names enough to go around?” Betty thought to herself.