“Goodness!” cried John. “What in the world was that!” Then he shouted with laughter at the frightened expression on Betty’s face.
“Dearie me! It must be a ‘blow-out’! Is that the trouble, Jo? Yes? Well, come, girls; we may as well step out.” There was forced resignation in Mrs. Pitt’s voice; she was trying not to mind the delay.
For forty minutes she and the girls sat by the roadside and watched the chauffeur and the two boys at work on the tire. It seemed as though every part of this operation took longer than usual. The tools seemed never so easily mislaid; it surely was a longer task than ever to inflate the tube, and then to fit on the wheel-rim. Finally, however, the three rose, grimy and dusty, but triumphant, and ready to set forth once again.
The accident came just at the edge of Blackheath, amid very historic surroundings. Some one has called Blackheath the Rotten Row of the olden days, for there royalty and fashionable people of the town went to ride and disport themselves, just as they now do in Hyde Park; and there important guests on the way to London, were wont to be met with much ceremony by the Mayor and certain great citizens. After the battle of Agincourt, the victor, Henry V, when returning to London, was given a magnificent reception at Blackheath, and many were the speeches of praise which had been prepared. The great soldier cut them all short, however, insisting that the honor be given God. At Blackheath, his descendant, Henry VIII, first saw Anne of Cleves (officially, that is), and straightway decided to divorce her. But perhaps the most joyful scene of all those at Blackheath, took place on the May morning when Charles II came into his own, and all England was glad, after the dark days of the Commonwealth and the iron rule of the sober Puritans.
“This,” declared Mrs. Pitt a little later, “is ‘Shooter’s Hill.’ That should bear a familiar sound. How many have ever read Dickens’s ‘Tale of Two Cities’? You have, I know, Philip. Well, in the second chapter, the stage which carried Mr. Jarvis Lorry on his way, is described as slowly mounting this very hill, while most of its passengers toil along the wet, snowy road, by its side. Do you remember, Betty? You must try to think over all of Dickens’s works which you have ever read, for we are coming to a district which that author knew well and often put into his novels.”
Sure enough, they almost felt as though they had stepped into the world of Dickens’s stories, for so many of the places mentioned therein they were able to find. Slowly they drove through Rochester’s streets, stopping when they came to any spot of especial interest.
“Here’s the old Bull Inn,” said Mrs. Pitt, pointing it out as she spoke. “It is supposed that there are no less than twenty-five inns named in Dickens’s ‘Pickwick Papers’ alone. This is one of them, for Room Number Seventeen was Mr. Pickwick’s bedroom, and there is also Winkle’s, which was ‘inside of Mr. Tupman’s.’ Come, shall we go in?”
The landlord of the Bull has most carefully preserved and cared for all which is of even the slightest interest in connection with Dickens or his books. He most kindly took Mrs. Pitt and her party all about the old house, showing them everything,—including the room where the famous ball in “Pickwick Papers” was held.
Leaving the Bull, they noted the Crown Inn, on the site of the one where Henry VIII went privately to take a look at Anne of Cleves, and the old White Hart, built in Richard II’s reign, which once sheltered Samuel Pepys. In Restoration House (built in 1587) Charles II stayed after his landing at Dover.
“‘Dickens wrote thus about Restoration House in “Great Expectations,”’” Betty read from the guidebook. “‘I had stopped to look at the house as I passed, and its seared red brick walls, blocked windows and strong green ivy clasping even the stacks of chimneys with its twigs and tendrils, as if with sinewy arms, made up a rich and attractive mystery.’”