“Oh, how nice of him,” said Betty. “I like the part about the yellow locks. Look! there’s a young man going past now with fair hair almost to his shoulders. He must be rather like that clerk who had to ring Bow Bell.” “You will remember that rhyme the next time you go down Cheapside in an omnibus and pass Bow Church. Many other things you may remember also. For instance, when you look at the names of some of the streets leading out of the modern Cheapside, they will recall this market-place of the Middle Ages. Do you see, for instance, how certain articles of food like milk and bread and honey are sold in separate places? All the milk sellers have their stalls together, you see, and all the bakers are together over there, and so on. Well, certain streets in or near the modern Cheapside are still called by such names as Milk Street, Bread Street, and so forth, and they mark the very spots where now, bread and milk are being offered for sale. So you will perhaps find Cheapside a more interesting place now that you have seen the _Chepe_ of which it is the remains,” added Godmother with a smile. “Oh, every time I see it, I shall remember this!” Betty declared as her eyes wandered over the beautiful market-place with its cross and fountains, its picturesque houses brilliant with coloured draperies, and its throng of quaintly-clad lively people. The bells of many churches were ringing and clashing merrily, but she heard the sweet chimes of _one_ above all the rest. “Bow bells!” she said, looking up at the church. “I wonder if the Lord Mayor is listening to them now, and remembering the time when they said ‘_Turn again, Whittington_’!” But the last words were uttered in Godmother’s parlour, and outside, a newspaper boy was calling the latest racing news. “_All the winners! All the winners!_” he shouted. * * * * * Two or three days later, when Betty happened to be walking down St. James’s Street with her mother, it suddenly occurred to her that they were near the London Museum. “Do let us go in for a minute,” she urged. “I want to see if there’s anything there that will remind me of the reign of Richard the Second.” “Why are you interested in Richard the Second?” asked her mother. “Are you doing his reign at school?” “No. But somehow I seem to know how London looked then. I’ve got a picture of it in my mind, and I can’t think why.” “Well, we shan’t find any room _labelled_ Richard the Second, of course,” said her mother as they entered the building, “so we’d better look for a room that has to do with the Middle Ages.” “Here it is!” cried Betty presently. “It says _Mediæval_ London on that doorway. That’s the same as the Middle Ages, isn’t it?”