"Why, climb up, sir, of course. You know there's a good stairway nearly to the top, perhaps all the way. Anyhow, we can get up there, I know; and Ed Tyler says the view is perfectly stupendous."
"So I've heard," said Uncle, half ready to yield; "and the climb is stupendous too."
"Yes, but you can look down and see the city, and the harbor, and all the shipping, and the East River, and everything. There's an hour to spare yet. We can take it easy. What say you, Uncle?"
"Well, I say yes," said Uncle, with forced heartiness, for he dearly loved to oblige the twins.
Then they turned to Dorry, though it seemed hardly necessary; she always was ready for an adventure. To their surprise, she responded emphatically:
"And I say, please let me wait somewhere till Uncle and you come down again. I don't care to go up."
"Why, Dot, are you tired?" asked her uncle, kindly.
"Oh, no, Uncle, not a bit. But whenever I stand on a high place I always feel just as if I must jump off. Of course, I wouldn't jump, you know, but I don't wish to have the feeling. It's so disagreeable."
"I should think as much," said Donald; but Mr. Reed walked on toward the ferry, silently, with compressed lips and a flushed countenance; he did not even mention the steeple project again.
Meantime the noble old church on Broadway stood calmly overlooking the bustle and hurry of Wall Street, where the "money, money, money" chorus goes on day after day, ceasing only on Sundays and holidays, and when the clustering stars shed their light upon the spire.