“Bluer?” he repeated. “My dear woman, there are no skies as blue as the English skies. They are quite celebrated--really.” He sauntered on again, evidently disgusted at our lack of appreciation. “He must be color-blind,” I observed. Hephzy was more charitable. “I guess likely everybody's home things are best,” she said. “I suppose this green-streaked water and those gray clouds do look bright and blue to him. We must make allowances, Hosy. He never saw an August mornin' at Bayport, with a northwest wind blowin' and the bay white and blue to the edge of all creation. That's been denied him. He means well, poor thing; he don't know any better.” An hour later we landed from the passenger tender at a stone pier covered with substantial stone buildings. Uniformed custom officers and uniformed policemen stood in line as we came up the gang-plank. Behind them, funny little locomotives attached to queer cars which appeared to be all doors, puffed and panted. Hephzibah looked about her. “Yes,” she said, with conviction. “I'm believin' it more and more all the time. It is England, just like the pictures. How many times I've seen engines like that in pictures, and cars like that, too. I never thought I'd ride in 'em. My goodness me? Hephzibah Jane Cahoon, you're in England--YOU are! You needn't be afraid to turn over for fear of wakin' up, either. You're awake and alive and in England! Hosy,” with a sudden burst of exuberance, “hold on to me tight. I'm just as likely to wave my hat and hurrah as I am to do anything. Hold on to me--tight.” We got through the perfunctory customs examination without trouble. Our tickets provided by Campbell, included those for the railway journey to London. I secured a first-class compartment at the booking-office and a guard conducted us to it and closed the door. Another short delay and then, with a whistle as queer and unfamiliar as its own appearance, the little locomotive began to pull our train out of the station. Hephzy leaned back against the cushions with a sigh of supreme content. “And now,” said I, “for London. London! think of it, Hephzy!” Hephzy shook her head. “I'm thinkin' of it,” she said. “London--the biggest city in the world! Who knows, Hosy? France is such a little ways off; probably Little Frank has been to London a hundred times. He may even be there now. Who knows? I shouldn't be surprised if we met him right in London. I sha'n't be surprised at anything anymore. I'm in England and on my way to London; that's surprise enough. NOTHIN' could be more wonderful than that.” CHAPTER VI In Which We Are Received at Bancroft's Hotel and I Receive a Letter It was late when we reached London, nearly eleven o'clock. The long train journey was a delight. During the few hours of daylight and dusk we peered through the car windows at the scenery flying past; at the villages, the green fields, the hedges, the neat, trim farms.