“Go and get ready,” said Aunt Hester, with a nod to her niece, and Rachel flew like the wind.
Ten minutes later she was seated in a taxi-cab with Mr. Sheston, who talked about her father, about her country home, her brothers and sisters, and everything in the world except just the things Rachel wanted him to talk about—Egypt and the Pyramids.
At last, however, he said quite suddenly, just as they were going up the steps of the Museum, “How long is it since you were here?”
“Five or six days, I think, or perhaps—”
“Seven days,” corrected the old gentleman, quietly, and all at once Rachel began to get excited.
They entered the building, and she noticed that all the officials in uniform touched their hats to the little old man who was evidently very well known there. He turned at once to the Egyptian Gallery, and as they passed the Rosetta Stone, Rachel looked back.
“I know all about that,” she said, glancing up at Mr. Sheston, who only smiled.
“We will go to the Babylonian Room in a minute,” he said. “Do you know where to find Babylonia on the map?”
Only that morning, in looking as she always did now, for Egypt, Rachel had seen it marked in her atlas.
“It’s up above Arabia, isn’t it?” she began, uncertainly “Up above the Persian Gulf.”