Once inside the house, Martine, without meaning to be critical, was slightly impressed by the general air of shabbiness. The carpets were dull from the trampling of many little feet, the furniture was simple, the pictures old-fashioned, and the gilt frames somewhat tarnished. But there were books everywhere, in the open bookshelves in hall and sitting-room. Open fires were blazing in large fireplaces. When Priscilla led her to her own room there was the same air of homelikeness, from the easy-chair drawn up before the fire to the large bowls of mayflowers on mantelpiece and dressing-table. After supper, when all gathered around her, Lucy on her knee, the boys hanging over her chair, to hear what she had to tell about Chicago--for this was their special request--Martine felt as if she had known the Danforths all her life. As to Priscilla--Martine now really understood why Eunice Airton and Priscilla had been so much to each other. Far apart though Plymouth and Annapolis were, the Danforth household had an atmosphere very similar to that of the Airton family. It was true that Eunice had no younger brothers or sister, nor was Mrs. Danforth quite as old-fashioned as Mrs. Airton in manner and speech. Mrs. Danforth, indeed, seemed to Martine more like some one she had always known, and she soon felt completely at home with her. The evening passed quickly away, as they sat around the open fire, and the children were allowed to extend their bed-hour an hour beyond the usual time. "Who is going to be my guide?" asked Martine, before they separated for the night. "That depends on what you want to see," responded Marcus, cautiously. "You are not very gallant," protested Mrs. Danforth. "You should be very proud to guide a young lady from the city wherever she wishes to go." "I _am_ proud," interposed George. "I'll go anywhere." "Well," said the cautious Marcus, "I only meant that I don't want to go up on Burial Hill. It's very stupid looking at those old gravestones, and there aren't any real Pilgrims there, at least not any worth mentioning." "But there's a lovely view," said Priscilla, "and the first fort stood up there, and some people like old gravestones." "To be perfectly frank," said Martine, "I don't care so very much for them, unless the inscriptions are entertaining. Don't look shocked, Prissie, epitaphs can be very amusing sometimes. But what would you like to show me, Marcus?" "Oh, I'd like to take you out into the woods for mayflowers, for one thing, and over to Duxbury to see the Standish monument for another; but I just hate poking about the town, looking for old houses and ruins the way some people do; for we haven't any ruins here." "Then I suppose you wouldn't condescend to show me Plymouth Rock? For that, of course, is one of the things I _must_ see." "Oh, I'll take you there!" interrupted George; "let's go right after breakfast." "Very well, I'll be ready; and thank you for your invitation."