CHAPTER SEVEN A SUNDAY NIGHT CHAT It was Sunday afternoon, and the time for John and Betty to send their weekly letters home. The day was a beautiful one in early spring, the grass and trees in the garden behind the house were very green, birds were singing outside, people were continually walking by, and the letters progressed but slowly. Every few moments Betty stole a glance out-of-doors, and John sat leaning his elbow on the desk chewing the end of his penholder, while he gazed steadily out of the window. "Well, what do you think of it all, John?" asked Betty thoughtfully. "Aren't we glad we came, and aren't Mrs. Pitt and Barbara and Philip good to us?" "Just splendid!" exclaimed John most emphatically. He had turned away from the window now, and was entering earnestly into the conversation. "I just tell you what, Betty, it's a different thing to peg away at an old, torn history-book at school, and to come over here and see things and places, while Mrs. Pitt tells you about them! Why, I honestly like English history the way we're learning it now!" Betty smiled in an elder-sisterly fashion. "Well, I always did like to study history, but it surely makes it nicer and easier to do it this way. But besides that, John, don't you think it's queer and very interesting to see the way the English do things--all their customs, I mean. They're so different from ours! Why, when I first saw Barbara that day at the train, I thought it was the funniest thing that her hair was all hanging loose down her back. I wouldn't think of being so babyish! I thought perhaps she'd lost off her ribbon maybe, but she's worn it that way ever since. And her little sailor-hat looks so countrified as she has it,--'way down over her ears!" [Illustration: "I'D FEEL LIKE 'LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY' GOING AROUND WITH THOSE CLOTHES ON!"--_Page 84._] "I know it; it seemed mighty funny to me to see Philip's black suit with the long trousers, his broad collar, and skimpy short coat! It's what all the boys at the Eton School wear, he says. They must feel like fools! Why, I'd feel like--like--'Little Lord Fauntleroy' going around with those clothes on all the time!" John's voice was full of scorn, yet his eyes twinkled with fun. "But, the high hat, just like father's opera-hat, which Philip wears, beats it all!" he continued. "I'm so used to it now, though, that I don't think of it any more. It's queer how soon you get used to things! It's just like riding along the streets, and keeping to the left instead of to the right. The first time I rode in a hansom (you weren't there that day, Betty) and we suddenly turned a corner, keeping close to the left curb, I poked open the little door in the roof and shouted, 'Hey there! Mister! You'll bump into something if you don't look out!' The driver just stared; he didn't seem to know what I was talking about."