“When we left London last time,” Godmother began, “Charles the Second was reigning. Who was the next king?”
“James the Second, his brother,” Betty said, after a moment’s thought.
“And then?”
“William and Mary.”
“Why didn’t the son of James the Second come to the throne?”
“Because there was a revolution, and the people chose James the Second’s son-in-law to be king, and he was William of Orange, who was married to James’s daughter, Mary.”
“Very good!” exclaimed Godmother approvingly. “Queen Anne, you remember, Mary’s sister, was the next sovereign. And after her?”
“Let me see. She had no children, so a relation of hers, a German man, was chosen. He was George the First. Then came George the Second, and then——”
“That will do,” Godmother interrupted. “The reign of George the Second brings us to the London we’re going to see to-day, partly, but not altogether by magic. Some of it at least we can see in the course of a walk or drive, for it still exists. Now we’ll have the car and go as usual to London Bridge for a general view of the city that has risen up since the Fire and has been growing bigger and bigger for two hundred and fifty years.”
Half an hour later they were passing the Monument at the entrance to the Bridge, and this time Betty looked up at it with greater interest than ever.