Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 (10 page)

 
          
           
Ethel told her she was "clean daft;" but Jenny said, "Let me
enjoy it while I can. I've dreamed of it so long I can hardly realize that it
has come, and I cannot lose a minute of it;" so she absorbed Scotch poetry
and romance with the mist and the keen air from the moors, and bloomed like the
bonnie heather which she loved to wear.

 
          
           
"What shall we do this rainy day in this stupid place?" said Ethel,
one morning when bad weather kept them from an excursion to
Stirling
Castle
.

 
          
           
"Write our journals and read up for the visit; then we shall know all
about the castle, and need not tire people with our questions," answered
Jenny, already established in a deep window-seat of their parlor at the hotel
with her books and portfolio.

 
          
           
"I don't keep a journal, and I hate to read guide-books; it's much easier
to ask, though there is very little I care for about these mouldy old
places," said Ethel with a yawn, as she looked out into the muddy street.

 
          
           
"How can you say so? Don't you care for poor Mary, and Prince Charlie, and
all the other sad and romantic memories that haunt the country? Why, it seems
as real to me as if it happened yesterday, and I never can forget anything
about the place or the people now. Really, dear, I think you ought to take more
interest and improve this fine chance. Just see how helpful and lovely Mrs.
Homer is, with a quotation for every famous spot we see. It adds so much to our
pleasure, and makes her so interesting. I'm going to learn some of the fine
bits in this book of hers, and make them my own, since I cannot buy the
beautiful little set this Burns belongs to. Don't you want to try it, and while
away the dull day by hearing each other recite and talking over the beautiful
places we have seen?"

 
          
           
"No, thank you; no study for me.
It is to be all
play now. Why tire my wits with that Scotch stuff when Mrs. Homer is here to do
it for me?" and lazy Ethel turned to the papers on the table for amusement
more to her taste.

 
          
           
"But we shouldn't think only of our own pleasure, you know. It is so sweet
to be able to teach, amuse, or help others in any way. I'm glad to learn this
new accomplishment, so that I may be to some one by-and-by what dear Mrs. Homer
is to us now, if I ever can. Didn't you see how charmed those English people
were at Holyrood when she was reciting those fine lines to us? The old
gentleman bowed and thanked her, and the handsome lady called her 'a book of
elegant extracts.' I thought it was such a pretty and pleasant thing that I
described it all to mother and the girls."

 
          
           
"So it was; but did you know that the party was Lord Cumberland and his
family? The guide told me afterward. I never guessed they were anybody, in such
plain tweed gowns and thick boots; did you?"

 
          
           
"I knew they were ladies and gentlemen by their manners and conversation;
did you expect they would travel in coronets and ermine mantles?" laughed
Jenny.

 
          
           
"I'm not such a goose! But I'm glad we met them, because I can tell the
Sibleys of it. They think so much of
titles,
and brag
about Lady Watts Barclay, whose husband is only a brewer knighted. I shall buy
a plaid like the one the lord's daughter wore, and wave it in the faces of
those girls; they do put on SUCH airs because they have been in
Europe
before."

 
          
           
Jenny was soon absorbed in her books; so Ethel curled herself up in the
window-seat with an illustrated
London
paper full of some royal event, and silence reigned for an hour. Neither had
seen the Professor's glasses rise like two full moons above his paper now and
then to peep at them as they chatted at the other end of the room; neither saw
him smile as he made a memorandum in his note-book, nor guessed how pleased he
was at Jenny's girlish admiration of his plain but accomplished and excellent
wife. It was one of the trifles which went to form his opinion of the two
lasses, and in time to suggest a plan which ended in great joy for one of them.

 
          
           
"Now the real fun begins, and I shall be perfectly contented," cried
 
 Ethel as they rolled through the
London
streets towards the dingy
 
 Langham Hotel, where Americans
love to congregate.
 
 

 
          
           
Jenny's eyes were sparkling also, and she looked as if quite ready for the new
scenes and excitements which the famous old city promised them, though she had
private doubts as to whether anything could be more delightful than Scotland.

 
          
           
The Sibleys were at the hotel; and the ladies of both parties at once began a
round of shopping and sightseeing, while the gentlemen went about their more
important affairs. Joe was detailed for escort duty; and a fine time the poor
lad had of it, trailing about with seven ladies by day and packing them into
two cabs at night for the theatres and concerts they insisted on trying to
enjoy in spite of heat and weariness.

 
          
           
Mrs. Homer and Jenny were soon tired of this "whirl of gayety," as
they called it, and planned more quiet excursions with some hours each day for
rest and the writing and reading which all wise tourists make a part of their
duty and pleasure. Ethel rebelled, and much preferred the "rabble,"
as Joe irreverently called his troop of ladies, never losing her delight in
Regent
Street
shops, the parks at the fashionable hour,
and the evening shows in full blast everywhere during the season. She left the
sober party whenever she could escape, and with Mrs. Sibley as chaperone,
frolicked about with the gay girls to her heart's content. It troubled Jenny,
and made her feel as if she were not doing her duty; but Mrs. Homer consoled
her by the fact that a month was all they could give to London, and soon the
parties would separate, for the Sibleys were bound for Paris, and the Professor
for Switzerland and Germany, through August and September.

 
          
           
So little Jane gave herself up to the pleasures she loved, and with the new
friends, whose kindness she tried to repay by every small service in her power,
spent happy days among the famous haunts they knew so well, learning much and
storing away all she saw and heard for future profit and pleasure. A few
samples of the different ways in which our young travellers improved their
opportunities will sufficiently illustrate this new version of the gay
grasshopper and the thrifty ant.

 
          
           
When they visited Westminster Abbey, Ethel was soon tired of tombs and chapels,
and declared that the startling tableau of the skeleton Death peeping out of
the half-opened door of the tomb to throw his dart at Mrs. Nightingale, and the
ludicrous has-relief of some great earl in full peer's robes and coronet being
borne to heaven in the arms of fat cherubs puffing under their load, were the
only things worth seeing.

 
          
           
Jenny sat spellbound in the Poets' Corner, listening while Mrs. Homer named the
illustrious dead around them; followed the verger from chapel to chapel with
intelligent interest as he told the story of each historical or royal tomb, and
gave up Madam Tussaud's wax-work to spend several happy hours sketching the
beautiful cloisters in the Abbey to add to her collection of water-colors,
taken as she went from place to place, to serve as studies for her pupils at
home.

 
          
           
At the Tower she grew much excited over the tragic spots she visited and the
heroic tales she heard of the kings and queens, the noble hearts and wise
heads, that
pined and perished there. Ethel "hated
horrors," she said, and cared only for the crown jewels, the faded
effigies in the armor gallery, and the queer Highlanders skirling on the
bagpipes in the courtyard.

 
          
           
At Kew Jenny revelled in the rare flowers, and was stricken with amazement at
the Victoria Regia, the royal water-lily, so large that a child could sit on one
of its vast leaves as on a green island. Her interest and delight so touched
the heart of the crusty keeper that he gave her a nosegay of orchids, which
excited the envy of Ethel and the Sibley girls, who were of the party, but had
soon wearied of plants and gone off to order tea in Flora's Bower,—one of the
little cottages where visitors repose and refresh themselves with weak tea and
Bath buns in such tiny rooms that they have to put their wraps in the fireplace
or out of the window while they feast.

 
          
           
At the few parties to which they went,—for the Homers' friends were of the
grave, elderly
sort,—
Jenny sat in a corner taking
notes of the gay scene, while Ethel yawned. But the Mouse got many a crumb of
good conversation as she nestled close to Mrs. Homer, drinking in the wise and
witty chat that went on between the friends who came to pay their respects to
the Professor and his interesting wife. Each night Jenny had new and famous
names to add to the list in her journal, and the artless pages were rich in
anecdotes, descriptions, and comments on the day's adventures.

 
          
           
But the gem of her London collection of experiences was found in a most
unexpected way, and not only gave her great pleasure, but made the young
gadabouts regard her with sudden respect as one come to honor.

 
          
           
"Let me stay and wait upon you; I'd much rather than go to the Crystal
Palace, for I shouldn't enjoy it at all with you lying here in pain and
alone," said Jenny one lovely morning when the girls came down ready for
the promised excursion, to find Mrs. Homer laid up with a nervous headache.

 
          
           
"No, dear, you can do nothing for me, thanks. Quiet is all I need, and my
only worry is that I am not able to write up my husband's notes for him. I promised
to have them ready last night, but was so tired I could not do it,"
answered Mrs. Homer, as Jenny leaned over her full of affectionate anxiety.

 
          
           
"Let me do them! I'd be so proud to help; and I can, for I did copy some
one day, and he said it was well done. Please let me; I should enjoy a quiet
morning here much better than the noisy party we shall have, since the Sibleys
are to go."

 
          
           
With some reluctance the invalid consented; and when the rest were gone with
hasty regrets, Jenny fell to work so briskly that in an hour or two the task
was done. She was looking wistfully out of the window wondering where she could
go alone, since Mrs. Homer was asleep and no one needed her, when the Professor
came in to see how his wife was before he went to the
British
Museum
to consult certain famous
books and parchments.

 
          
           
He was much pleased to find his notes in order, and after a glance at the
sleeping lady, told Jenny she was to come with him for a visit to a place which
SHE would enjoy, though most young people thought it rather dull.

 
          
           
Away they went; and being given in charge to a pleasant old man, Jenny roamed
over the vast Museum where the wonders of the world are collected, enjoying
every moment, till Mr. Homer called her away, as his day's work was done. It
was late now, but she never thought of time, and came smiling up from the
Egyptian Hall ready for the lunch the Professor proposed. They were just going
out when a gentleman met them, and recognizing the American stopped to greet
him cordially. Jenny's heart beat when she was presented to Mr. Gladstone, and
she listened with all her ears to the silvery un-English voice, and stared with
all her eyes at the weary yet wise and friendly face of the famous man.

 
          
           
"I'm so glad! I wanted to see him very much, and I feel so grand to think
I've really had a bow and a smile all to myself from the Premier of
England," said Jenny in a flutter of girlish delight when the brief
interview was over.

 
          
           
"You shall go to the House of Commons with me and hear him speak some day;
then your cup will be full, since you have already seen Browning, heard Irving,
taken tea with Jean Ingelow, and caught a glimpse of the royal family,"
said the Professor, enjoying her keen interest in people and places.

 
          
           
"Oh, thanks!
that
will be splendid. I do love to
see famous persons, because it gives me a true picture of them, and adds to my
desire to know more of them, and admire their virtues or shun their faults."