"This may lead to something," thought Ben. "I should enjoy living in Boston. There is a good deal more going on here than in Milltown." It was about quarter of two when Ben and Emma rose from the table. "What are we going to do now?" asked Emma. Ben considered. "The train doesn't start till five," he said. "We won't go to the station yet, for we should get tired of waiting. We will walk about, and look into the shop windows, unless you are tired." "I am not tired. I should like it," said Emma. Presently they came to the old State House. Ben's attentions was attracted by a Charleston car. He knew that Bunker Hill Monument was in Charleston, and it struck him that it would be a good opportunity to go and see it. "Does this car go to Bunker Hill Monument?" he inquired. "Yes," said the conductor. "It goes within two minutes' walk of it." "How long does it take to go there?" "Twenty minutes." Ben reflected that the train did not start till five o'clock, and that there would be plenty of time for the excursion. He did not know when he would have another chance, and resolved to avail himself of this. He helped Emma to board the car, and got on himself. "I like to ride in electric cars, Ben," said Emma. "So do I, Emma. Do you know what we are going to see?" "What is it?" "A great stone monument, five times as high as a house." "What is a monument?" Ben explained to her. "Does anybody live in it?" asked the little girl. "No, I don't think it would be a very pleasant place to live in." "What did they build it for, then?" Ben explained that a great battle had been fought on the hill where the monument stood. "Do they fight any battles there now, Ben?" asked Emma, in some apprehension. "Why? Are you afraid of getting killed?" "Yes." "There is no danger. It is over a hundred years since there was any fighting there." Just then the car stopped, and a new passenger got on and sat down just opposite Ben and his young charge. Ben did not take special notice of her, and was surprised to hear a familiar voice. "I declare, if it ain't the little gal," Looking up, he recognized the old lady, his fellow passenger. "How do you do, ma'am?" he said. "Putty well. Where be you goin'?" "Over to Bunker Hill." "I'm goin' to Charleston, myself. My son is away with his wife, and I'm goin' over to stay with my niece till he comes back. How do you do, little gal?" "Pretty well," said Emma. "You don't know me, do you?" It was an unfortunate question. "Yes, I do. You're the lady that takes snuff," said Emma. Some of the passengers tittered, and the old lady turned red in the face. "Well, I never did!" she exclaimed, in mortification. "You're a bad-behaved little gal." "She didn't mean to offend you, ma'am," said Ben. "She's very young."