"Yes. But I wanted to show you Boston as if you had never seen it, and now I shall never show it."
They were on deck, wrapped up to their chins. "Tell me what you would have shown me," Becky said; "play that I am Olga and that you are telling me about it."
He looked down at her. "Well, you've just arrived. You aren't dressed in a silver-toned cloak with gray furs and a blue turban with a silver edge. That's a heavenly outfit, Becky. But what made you wear it on a day like this?"
"It is the silver lining to my—cloud," demurely; "dull clothes are dreadful when the sky is dark."
"I am not sure but I liked you better in your brown—in the rain with your hand on my arm—— That is—unforgettable——"
She brought him back to Olga. "I have just arrived——"
"Yes, and you have a shawl over your head, and a queer old coat and funny shoes. I should have to speak to you through an interpreter, and you would look at me with eager eyes or perhaps frightened ones."
"And first we should have gone to Bunker Hill, and I should have said, 'Here we fought. Not of
hatred of our enemy, but for love of liberty. The thing had to be done, and we did it. We had a just cause.' And then I should have taken you to Concord and Lexington, and I would have said, 'These farmers were clean-hearted men. They believed in law and order, they hated anarchy, and upon that belief and upon that hatred they built up a great nation.' And thus ends the first lesson."
He paused. "Lesson the second would have to do with the old churches."