There is still the remarkable Hampton Court Vine, the fame of which has spread so far. The vine fills a whole greenhouse, and one of its branches is a hundred and fourteen feet long. The attendant told Betty that the crop consists of about eight hundred bunches, each one weighing a pound. Having duly marveled at this, they explored Queen Mary's lovely bower or arbor, where that Queen used to sit with her ladies at the tapestry-frames. "Dear me, let's go back now!" said Betty. "I'm sure we've been miles over these grounds." So they walked along the paths where Henry VIII made love to Anne Boleyn and Catharine Howard, where Queen Elizabeth took her morning walks, and where Pope, Swift, Addison, and Walpole wandered in more recent days. "I think I haven't mentioned Cromwell to you in connection with Hampton Court, but he must not be forgotten, for he came here after he was made Protector, and lived with as much pomp and splendor as any king. Every time I visit this palace I marvel at the amount of history with which it is connected, and at the number of scenes for which it was the setting!" As she spoke, Mrs. Pitt was leading the way to the railroad-station. A London train came along very soon, fortunately, but they ran up and down in vain looking for seats in their customary third-class compartment. These were all crowded, the following day being a "bank holiday," so when the guard at last came to their rescue, he put them in a first-class compartment. This greatly interested John and Betty, as they had not seen one before. [Illustration: "EVERY TIME I VISIT THE PALACE I MARVEL AT THE AMOUNT OF HISTORY WITH WHICH IT IS CONNECTED."--_Page 136._] "It isn't so very different, after all," commented Betty. "The cushions are a little nicer, and there's carpet on the floor, but that's the only change from an ordinary third-class carriage." "I know it," said Philip. "And most English people never think of traveling first-class except on a long journey; for it really is very little better, and the price is so ruinously dear!" CHAPTER ELEVEN STRATFORD-ON-AVON "We're going to stay in a really, truly old inn at last, aren't we!" Betty gave a sigh of satisfaction and walked rapidly along by Mrs. Pitt's side, as that lady led the way from the station at Stratford to the famous Red Horse Hotel. "Stratford is exactly like any other little English town," John was commenting to Philip. "There are plenty of new houses made of shiny, red bricks, and all put close together in blocks, with their tiny lawns and gardens in front. I suppose they build that way even in the small towns, because you haven't as much room to spread out as we have in America. Too bad, though, I say! Makes a little town look just like a big city, only smaller. I thought Stratford would be different!" His tones betrayed not a little disappointment.