"This is our last stage, Hugh, and tonight we shall be in London,"
Rupert said, as they rode out of Watford. "Methinks we shall find
it very strange in that great city. I am glad I thought of asking
our host the name of an inn at which to put up. The Bell in
Bishopsgate Street, he said. It will seem less strange asking the
way there than it would be to be wandering about gazing for a place
at which to alight."

"Ay, truly, Master Rupert; and I've heard say those London folk are
main fond of making game of strangers."

"So I have heard, Hugh; any reasonable jest we had best put up with
with good temper. If they push it too far, we shall be able, I
doubt not, to hold our own. The first thing to do will be to get
clothes of the cut in vogue, for I have come away just as I stood;
and I fear that even your clothes will have a marvellously country
air about them in the eyes of the city folk.

"There is London," he said, as they passed over the crest of
Hampstead Hill. "That great round dome that stands up so high must
be Saint Paul's; and look how many other church towers and spires
there are. And there, away to the right, those must be the towers
of Westminster."

"It is a big place, surely, Master Rupert. How many people do you
think live there?"

"I believe there are near 300,000 souls there, Hugh. It seems
wonderful, does it not?"