first morning.

Like ninety-nine Americans out of a hundred, they decided on Westminster
Abbey; and indeed there is nothing in England better worth seeing, or
more impressive, in its dim, rich antiquity, to eyes fresh from the
world which still calls itself "new." So to the Abbey they went, and
lingered there till Mrs. Ashe declared herself to be absolutely dropping
with fatigue.

"If you don't take me home and give me something to eat," she said, "I
shall drop down on one of these pedestals and stay there and be
exhibited forever after as an 'h'effigy' of somebody belonging to
ancient English history."

So Katy tore herself away from Henry the Seventh and the Poets' Corner,
and tore Amy away from a quaint little tomb shaped like a cradle, with
the marble image of a baby in it, which had greatly taken her fancy. She
could only be consoled by the promise that she should soon come again
and stay as long as she liked. She reminded Katy of this promise the
very next morning.

"Mamma has waked up with rather a bad headache, and she thinks she
will lie still and not come to breakfast," she reported. "And she
sends her love, and says will you please have a cab and go where you
like; and if I won't be a trouble, she would be glad if you would take
me with you. And I won't be a trouble, Miss Katy, and I know where I
wish you would go."

"Where is that!"