‘Clerke of the Bow Bells,
With the yellow lockes,
For thy late ringing,
Thou shalt have knockes.’
The frightened man hastened to send this answer to the boys:
‘Children of Chepe,
Hold you all stille,
For you shall have Bow Bells
Rung at your wille.’”
“That was bright of them,” commented John, as he rose to take off his coat.
Philip and Barbara had long since thrown off their wraps and pulled their chairs away from the fire, saying how warm they were. Even after John had dispensed with his coat, Betty sat just as near the tiny blaze as she could, with her coat still closely buttoned.
“No, thanks; I want to get warm,” she answered, when they spoke of it. “It seems to me that it’s very cold here. Don’t you ever have bigger fires?”
As Betty spoke, the little blaze flickered and almost went out.
“I’ll shut the window,” said Philip. “I remember, now, how cold Americans always are over here. Mother has told us how frightfully hot you keep your houses. We don’t like that, for we never feel the cold. Why, just to show you how accustomed to it we English are, let me tell you what I read the other day. At Oxford University, up to the time of King Henry VIII, no fires were permitted. Just before going to bed the poor boys used to go out and run a certain distance, to warm themselves. Even I shouldn’t care for that!”
“Let’s make some plans for to-morrow,” exclaimed Mrs. Pitt. “What should you like to see first, Betty?”
“I want to go somewhere on a bus!” was John’s prompt answer, at which everybody laughed except Betty.