"I love the story of Pelayo," Miss Dolores told the girls.
"Who was Pelayo, anyhow?" asked Mary Lee.
"He was the son of Favila, a Goth of royal lineage. He commanded the body-guard of Witiza, and his enthusiasm and influence roused his compatriots to fight. The different tribes by this time, the fair Goths, the Iberians of lofty stature, as well as the descendants of the Romans, had become Asturians all and made common cause against the Arabs. In those long ago days, when the Moors were trying to become victors all over Spain, the Asturian mountains became the refuge of the tribes who united against the Moors. They were headed by Pelayo. The Berbers sent Al-Kaman to vanquish these spirited and defiant people. Pelayo drew them into the great gorges at Covadonga and there they were slain by thousands. Pelayo was then made king by his victorious people. This was in 718, and so you see Asturias was the cradle of the Spanish monarchy. You must see the cave where Pelayo and his followers took refuge, and if you could stay till the early part of next month you would be here when the great pilgrimage takes place. The figure of our 'Lady of Covadonga' is much venerated."
"I have seen a number of pictures of it in the houses of the people here," said Mary Lee.
"I should like to read about Pelayo," said Nan. "Is there anything special that tells of him?"
"There is a wild poem and many legends. You can see Pelayo's tomb and that of Alfonso I and his queen when you go to Covadonga. There is much romantic history of this part of Spain."
"I would love to read it all," Nan declared, "and when I get a chance I am going to study Spanish so as to get hold of what I should like to know. One hears much more about Granada and Andalusia, but I am glad we came here first."
The trip to Covadonga was the last one undertaken, and then the girls set out upon their return trip which Mr. Pinckney and Miss Dolores were to take with them, going on from Paris to Switzerland.
Mercedes actually shed tears at the thought of parting from her new friends, and the reserved Don Antonio looked very solemn. He presented each of the girls with a huge bouquet of flowers, while Doña Teresa gave them a box of chocolate and a bottle of anisado, the latter as a remedy against any ills which might befall digestion during the journey. The two younger girls, Maria Isabel and Consuelo, gathered ripe figs from their own tree to present to the travelers, and would have added more flowers to those the girls already had, but were told by Mercedes that no more could be carried. Mercedes bestowed her favorite antique reliquary upon her cousin Dolores, gave Mary Lee a tiny silver cross with a figure of San Roque upon it, while Nan received a tambourine. Mercedes would have given them her entire aldeana costume as well, if they had not protested that they would not be able to pack so much in their trunks.
"I have always heard," said Nan to her sister, "that you have but to admire anything in Spain, be it great or small, to have it offered to you, though one must not accept it."
"I am sure that Mercedes was quite sincere in wanting us to accept her dress," returned Mary Lee.
"I am sure she was, and I think the people usually are. I never saw such generosity as they all show, from the peasants up. I am sure I know exactly how the dresses are made, and we have the photographs of Mercedes in hers to remind us, so I think we shall have no trouble if we ever want to make them for ourselves."
"And perhaps Mercedes will come over to see her cousin. We must be sure to make her have a good time, Nan."
"Indeed we will do that. Isn't it nice to have a Spanish girl friend? Won't the girls at home be interested when we tell them about her?"
"They will think we are great on having unusual friends," said Mary Lee. "You remember how excited they were over Daniella at school last year."
"Indeed I do. How long ago that seems, and how much we have seen since then."
"And how much more we shall see before we get back."
"So far I like Spain best," decided Nan.
"I, too," returned Mary Lee.
Back again they traveled, leaving behind the creaking cow-carts, the panniered donkeys, the towering mountains, the blue sea, and above all the warm-hearted Spanish family with whom their month's stay had been all too short.
"We shall never forget you," Nan assured Mercedes, "and some day we shall meet again; I am sure of it."
Mercedes, with swimming eyes, declared she hoped so, and the whole family having gone to the train with their guests, they waved farewells from the platform of the station, the last thing they saw being Neddy's gray ears as Mercedes and Maria Isabel drove him around the corner.
"Some day," remarked Mary Lee, as she settled back in her seat, "I mean to come back to Spain. I shall take that nice little house that Mercedes told me could be rented for forty dollars a year, for then I shall be old enough to keep house. I shall hire a servant for two dollars a month and I shall live on figs and chestnuts."
Miss Dolores laughed. "You would certainly need many doses of anisado if you were to do that," she said.
"For all there is so much corn in this part of the country," remarked Nan, "we didn't see any of our old home corn bread."
"No, and you never would see. The meal used by the peasants is poor stuff compared to ours," Mr. Pinckney told her. "They make it into a thick solid mass which is as unappetizing as it is unwholesome. Look over there, Nan; there is that old monastery you are so fond of, and the church attached to it. Pretty soon Mary Lee will see the town where her San Roque was honored in fiesta."
"That was a great fiesta," said Nan reminiscently. "How Jack would have enjoyed those funny fire balloons they sent up, the pigs and such things, the perigrinos, too."
"And those great giant figures dancing the jota all the time the procession was moving," said Mary Lee.
"There was nothing very solemn about it, as there was at Celorio," Nan went on. "To be sure, San Roque had a very serious expression, but everything and everybody else were as gay as larks."
With such chat they beguiled their way till night brought them again to Bilbao and the next afternoon saw them leaving San Sebastian and saying farewell to Spain. "Adios, España!" cried Nan.
"You may say Adios, if you choose," said Mary Lee, "but I shall say only Hasta mañana; for I mean to come back."
Miss Dolores smiled down at her, for she well knew that part of this enthusiasm for Spain was due to Mary Lee's love for this señiorita for whom she had always held a worshipful feeling.
There was no stop this time on the French side of the line, for they took the express to Paris and arrived there after a heavy rain when the French girls with their high heels and fluffy skirts were daintily stepping across the puddles, and before the hour when the students of the Latin quarter were ready to go forth to the restaurants and cafés for the evening meal. A quick drive from the railway station and the girls were again under their mother's wing, eager to tell of their adventures in Spain.
CHAPTER VII
ACROSS THE CHANNEL
"There doesn't seem to be anything to do but to bob about from place to place," said Miss Helen a few days after the girls had returned from Spain, "and as long as we are all over here together we may as well make the most of our opportunities, for once you girls are in college there is no knowing what we may have to do. Now, I vote for England for the next move, and, Jo Keyes, I appoint myself a committee of one to invite you to go along."
"Me?" Jo jumped to her feet. Though Miss Barnes was now in Paris with her party of girls, Jo had not failed to be on hand when Nan and Mary Lee returned.
"Yes," Miss Helen responded, "you are here for study, and surely nothing will give you a better groundwork for your English literature than a flight to England. I am sure Miss Barnes will not object to your spreading out your prize a little thinner so it will last longer, for I promise you shall be at no great expense. Miss Barnes will so soon be returning, that I have not the least doubt but that she will consent to your remaining in our company if I talk the matter over with her. You remember that she does not take her party anywhere except on the Continent, and this chance for seeing England is one I know she will not want you to miss."
"How good you are, Miss Helen," Jo answered heartily. "I should so love to go."
"Perhaps you can go to Munich with us, too," said Mary Lee. "I don't see why you shouldn't go along; as you have been allowed to leave Miss Barnes' party, anyhow, and have been with us most of the time, why not keep right on? I am sure it would be cheaper than going back to the Wadsworth school. I hope you have written about it to your father, so you won't have to go back when Miss Barnes does. You know we talked it over before we went to Spain."
"Yes, I have written all that you have said, and I am expecting an answer any day, for if I do stay with you Miss Barnes must know, otherwise, I shall have to be ready to take passage when she does. I really have great hopes, though I am deadly afraid to talk about them for fear they will not be gratified."
"When do we start for England, Aunt Helen?" asked Nan.
"Let me see. The Huttons are coming back next week so we shall have to give up the apartment then."
"It doesn't seem possible that we have had it two months," remarked Nan.
"That is because you were not here during a whole month of our stay. I think we may as well start off at once, so as not to have to make two removes. We shall want to get to Munich as near the first of October as we can, so you girls may arrange for school work as promptly as possible.
"What do you say, Mary?" She turned to Mrs. Corner who had been listening, but had taken no part in the conversation. "I know you are rather afraid of the English climate, and I don't wonder, but September will not be as dubious as April, I am sure. Often the weather then is the very loveliest. Will you go with us, or shall we leave you and the twinnies here?"
"Oh, oh!" came mournful wails of protest from the twins. "Don't leave us behind, Aunt Helen."
"If you get tired," went on Miss Helen, still addressing Mrs. Corner, "we can leave you with one or two of your brood in some quiet place while we make short migrations."
"You put it so alluringly," said Mrs. Corner, "that I would be very ungracious if I didn't fall in with your plan. I think I can stand it for a short time, for I could rush down to Torquay, or some such place if it turned suddenly chilly. I have a weakness for tagging along with these girls, strange as my taste might appear to outsiders. I think they should see London, and since you agree to leave me behind whenever the energies of the party become too much for my powers, I agree to go."
"Good! Good!" cried the twins.
"Then since we are all agreed," said Miss Helen, "we may as well make out our line of march. Nan, just hand me my Baedekers, those two on Great Britain and London."
Nan hastened to obey. "I always get so excited when it comes to the point of making out the route," she said. "What do you propose, Aunt Helen?"
"I thought it would be rather fun to let each one choose the place she wants most to see, and if her reason is good and sufficient, and the place is within a reasonable route we'll take it in."
"That's a fine plan," declared Nan. "Who's to begin?"
"Your mother, I think."
All eyes were turned on Mrs. Corner. "I vote for Canterbury," she said. "We crossed from Dieppe last time and did not take it in. There are three interests for me there: first, the cathedral, second, the Huguenot church in the crypt, and third, the association with the Canterbury pilgrims."
"Good child," cried Miss Helen. "Go up head. Your reasons are excellent. Moreover, if we cross from Calais to Dover we shall be exactly on the line to London when we take in Canterbury. By all means Canterbury, and incidentally Dover, which has a wonderfully fine old castle. Now you, Nan."
"No, you, Aunt Helen."
"Then I choose Oxford which is always interesting to me and will be to you. So far it stands Dover, Canterbury, London, Oxford. What next? Your turn, Nan."
"I'd love the Lake District above all things, if it is within the limits. You know I made a special study of that region last year when I was getting up my theme. I should so like to see that little Dove cottage where Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy lived, and there are dozens of spots that the poems refer to that I should love to see. Next to the Lakes I should like the Lorna Doone country."
"We certainly must manage one of them, the Lakes if it is possible, for yours is a most worthy reason. Now, Jo, you have the next say."
"Stratford-on-Avon is mine, please. I don't think I have to give any reason for wanting to go to the Shakespeare country."
"No, it is quite obvious. It works up beautifully, for it is not far from Oxford. Now, Mary Lee, what do you choose?"
"If you say Oxford I will take Cambridge, though London is what I most want to see, so leave out Cambridge if it is an out-of-the-way place. I am crazy to see the Zoo in London, and after that anything will suit me."
Miss Helen smiled. Mary Lee's fondness for animals was always evident. "You shall certainly see the Zoo," her aunt told her, "and when we get to London we will follow the same plan of choosing what we like best; then every one will be suited. We may have to leave out Cambridge, but we shall see later. What is your choice, Jack?"
Jack had been thinking very hard. "I'd like to see the white peacock on that castle wall," she said.
"Rather vague," Nan murmured to her mother. "What castle, chickadee? Where did you hear about white peacocks?"
"Mr. St. Nick told me. He saw them."
"Oh, I know; she means Warwick, Aunt Helen. I remember that Mr. St. Nick and Miss Dolores were there. Isn't it Warwick, Jack?"
"I think so."
"That will not be out of our way at all," said Miss Helen. "We can include that in our Shakespeare country, for it is practically the same. Now, Jean."
This young person's desires were divided between a wish to eat clotted cream in Devonshire and to see Southdown lambs which would grow up to be sheep. The good things of life were generally uppermost in Jean's mind. She had read of clotted cream in one of her favorite story-books, and had heard Mr. St. Nick discourse upon the Southdowns.
"What a choice," cried the others.
"Well," began Jean in an aggrieved voice, "I'm sure everybody feels crite as I do, only they don't say so."
"I think there will be no difficulty about indulging your yearning for clotted cream in London," her aunt told her. "As for the Southdowns, we can perhaps come back by way of New Haven and Dieppe when you will be able to see the Southdowns of Sussex, so probably both your desires can be fulfilled."
"I wish I had made two wishes," said Jack regretfully. It was always a grievance when one twin had anything the other did not.
"Suppose you were to make another, what would it be?" asked her aunt.
Jack considered. "I think," she decided, "I should like to see the moping owl."
"You ridiculous child," cried Mary Lee, "to go to England to see owls and peacocks that you can see any time at home."
"Well, I never did see a white peacock nor a moping owl," said Jack, "and I'm sure you want to go to the Zoo yourself. I've seen hooty owls, but not the moping kind. Uncle Landy showed me a hooty owl that used to live in our barn and catch mice."
"Have you an idea what she is talking about?" Jo asked Nan.
"Of course I have," returned Nan, putting her arm around her little sister. "I remember the creature that Unc' Landy used to call a hooty owl, and Jack has heard me repeat Gray's Elegy too often for me not to know about the moping one. I'm afraid, dearie," she turned to Jack, "that you wouldn't see the moping owl if you went to – what is the name of the place, Aunt Helen, Stoke Poges? Thank you. I don't know how long owls live but I fancy that special owl must have died years ago; if not, he must be ready now to drop off with old age, so he couldn't possibly fly to the 'ivied tower.'"
"We can take a day for Windsor castle and Stoke Poges, perhaps," said Miss Helen, "even though we can't be sure of the owl. Let us see how our itinerary reads now. From Calais to Dover, to Canterbury, to London, to Oxford, to Cambridge – that means retracing our steps a little if we go to the latter."
"Oh, but you know I gave up Cambridge," said Mary Lee. "I really am not so very keen about it; I'd rather see Oxford, anyhow."
"How very English that keen sounds," laughed Nan. "I know where you picked that up; from those English girls we met at Madame Lemercier's."
"Now let me see what we can do," said Miss Helen still absorbed in her plans. "We shall probably have to leave out Cambridge, for it is a pretty long list to cover in so short a time. We will say Oxford, Stratford-on-Avon and Warwick. We will try for the Lakes and let Jean eat her clotted cream in London, so that will leave out Devonshire, and if we come back by way of Dieppe we shall sail from Newhaven and that will give us a glimpse of Sussex. That will be the better way and I think we can do it all without too great a rush. Now, off with you, and begin to pack up."
The girls scudded to their different rooms, and began to chatter over the new plans. "I wish we could go to Scotland," said Nan, "but we are trying to do a great deal in a very short time, which mother thinks is always a mistake. You see we gave up so much time to Spain that we have very little left for England, but I am awfully glad you are to have a whack at it, Jo."
"It is beyond my wildest hopes, for I thought France and Germany would be my limit. It is all due to that blessed aunt of yours. I believe half the reason she suggested the trip was on my account."
"Don't you believe it. She thinks it will be great for us all, though I know she included you when she first thought of the advantage of it. Once we settle down in Munich there will be five solid months of German."
"And that is no cinch," declared Jo.
"It is a fearsome language," agreed Nan, "though they do say ours is about as hard. I don't believe that, however, for I am sure getting the pronunciation of English is much easier than to conquer that fearful German grammar; ours is mere child's play compared to it. You are not going to take all those things, are you, Jo? We shall be gone only a month, and the bulk of our luggage will be left in storage here for us to pick up on our way back."
"Who's getting English expressions now?" queried Mary Lee from the depth of a trunk. "Why don't you say baggage?"
"Because they won't know what I mean in England. I say but we'll have a lot of boxes, shan't we?" she went on with a strong English accent. "My word, but I'm a silly ass to think I can get all this in one box. How is that, Jo? Shall I be taken for an English girl, do you think? There, I believe I have chosen judiciously. I must go and ask mother. Perhaps she will think I shall not need that extra frock."
Another week saw the travelers on their way. After a short crossing from Calais, which every one dreaded, but which no one minded in the least, they set foot on the pier at Dover. "If any one mentions the white cliffs of Dover to me," said Miss Helen at starting, "I'll cut out her special choice of places from the trip." And in merry defiance the girls skirted the subject, saying everything but the exact words, till Miss Helen threatened to abandon them at the first stopping-place.
Mrs. Corner declined the steep walk to the castle, but the girls were all eager to take it, and were not disappointed in what the place had to offer. Nan's romantic soul delighted in the banquet hall, the little gallery where the minstrels used to sit and the small room where the ladies retired apart. "I can fancy it all," said the girl. "Never have I had those old times brought before me so vividly."
"Old times," said Mary Lee. "This isn't nearly so old as things we saw in Spain."
"But I don't read Spanish romances and I do read English ones," retorted Nan.
The magnificent array of armor greatly interested Jo, who examined coats of mail, helmets and shields to her heart's content. Jack was awe-stricken by the well three hundred feet deep, but Jean was most interested in the birds outside the castle and the flowers in the crannied wall.
The way to Canterbury was short and here they arrived before night, to be established in a quaint little hotel but a stone's throw from the great cathedral.
"I am glad the town still looks so old," said Nan. "One doesn't need so much imagination to fancy the pilgrims, and as for the cathedral, – well, – words fail."
A daily visit to the cathedral seemed a necessity to them all. They would wander around the beautiful close, admiring this fine ruin, that old porch until it was time for afternoon service when all would go to spend an hour in the beautiful interior while the service went on.
It was on one of these occasions that Jack was found to be missing. "She was here a minute ago," said Nan. "You all go in and I will try to hunt her up. Very likely she is watching the rooks; she is crazy about them." But search as she would no Jack did she find, and finally decided to join the others in the church. She had scarcely seated herself, when, looking across to the seats in the choir, she saw Jack smiling from the archbishop's pew, quite happily settled by no less personage than the gracious wife of the archbishop himself.
"How did you dare to go there?" asked Nan severely when she encountered her waiting at one of the great doors after service.
"A lady invited me," said Jack coolly, not at all appreciating the fact that she had been in the seats of the mighty. "I was standing in the doorway looking around for you all, and that nice pleasant lady came along and asked if I were alone. I said yes, but that I was looking for my family. Where do strangers sit? I said, and she told me to come with her, so I went."
"She was the archbishop's wife," Nan told her, "and you have been quite honored. I suppose you were out watching the rooks and that was why we couldn't find you."
"Yes, and I am glad I was, for I wouldn't have sat in the archbishop's pew if I had gone in with you," returned Jack complacently. She always comforted herself by deriving such benefit as she could from any of her escapades, and if truth must be told she usually did come off with flying colors.
Mrs. Corner, who was interested in getting some records for a friend at home, determined upon a visit to the pastor of the Huguenot church, and took Mary Lee with her as the others had planned to go to St. Martin's. "You can tell us about your visit and we will tell you about ours," said Mary Lee to the others. "Time is too short for everybody to do everything."
"It was fine," cried Nan when she met Mary Lee later in the day.
"He is the dearest man," responded Mary Lee, "and he told us such interesting things, how Queen Elizabeth let the Huguenot refugees have their services in the crypt of the cathedral, and how there have been uninterrupted services held there ever since. There used to be a great many Huguenots in Canterbury, and there are still a number of French names, though a great many have become Anglicized. Baker used to be Boulanger, and White used to be Blanc. Now the congregation is very small, and there is very little money to pay the minister, but he is full of faith, and is so enthusiastic and simple-hearted. He believes that everything will come out all right. Just think, Nan, if it were not for him the services would have to stop, and after all these years it would be a shame. If I were very rich I would send him a big fat check, for I don't know any one who would use it more unselfishly. He lives in the tiniest little house, and 'does for himself' as they say in England. He had been working in his garden when we got there, and apologized for his appearance, but I just loved his simple ways, and – oh dear – " She paused to take breath.
"Go on," said Nan. "I am tremendously interested."
"He is so dear," continued Mary Lee, "and brought out some of the very old books he has, for as he said, 'I will show you the so many interesting things that I have.' He left his parish in Canada to come over here to take up this work because there was no one else who would do it, and he is so eager for the honor of this early church. He doesn't seem to care at all about himself. He ought to have a nice big rectory instead of that box of a house, and he believes that some day he will have, if it is best, but he thinks more of its being a dishonor to the church than of his own discomfort to live as he does. We are all going to the service in the crypt to-morrow afternoon. Do you know who Beza was? We are going to hear some of the old hymns that are in the old Beza hymn-book, and they will sing them just as their fore-fathers did, the pastor promised us."
"Good!" cried Nan. "I want to go, too. We haven't had a bad time, either, Mary Lee. You know St. Martin's was a Christian church before Saxon days and before St. Augustine came to Great Britain. It was fixed up as a chapel for Queen Bertha; she was the wife of Ethelbert. We saw the old font where he was baptized. There are some curious slits in the thick walls, and they are called 'leper's squints,' for you see the lepers couldn't go inside but stood outside and peeped in. The verger saw we were more interested than most visitors are and he told us a lot. He showed us where the old wall began and where the authentic Roman bricks are. There is a beautiful view of the town and the cathedral from the churchyard. I brought you an ivy-leaf that had fallen from the vine over the church, and we got some post-cards and a little pamphlet on our way home. Aunt Helen says it is called the Mother Church of England, and that though at Glastonbury Abbey the church had its actual beginnings, that it is now in ruins. I should love to go to Glastonbury, but I am afraid we cannot do it on this trip."
"You know Aunt Helen has promised that some time we shall come over and spend a whole summer in England, and then we can go."
"I'd like to spend weeks in Canterbury, and come to know every brick and stone by heart. Aunt Helen and I are making a list of the places we love best and, as you say, some day we are coming back and we mean to stay a long time in each of those places we do love. At least that is what we say we will do, and it is nice to think that we may."
"Hasn't it been an interesting day? I never expected to get so enthusiastic, but somehow that dear French pastor stirred me up so I couldn't help being wild about everything he was interested in."
"Only one more day and then London," said Nan, half regretfully.
"That will be fascinating enough, dear knows. Who could have believed it, Nan, when you were playing your tunes on a log for a make-believe piano and I was running around with Phil, that in a couple of years we should be flying all over Europe."
Nan looked thoughtful. Those days did seem very far distant now, yet they were dear days, and even with lack of means they had enjoyed life in that old Virginia home. "Shall we ever be content to settle down again, I wonder?" she said. "There is still so much ahead; school, college, and then – "
"The then is a long way off still," said Mary Lee laughing. "I don't believe we need to bother about it yet."
"Sensible as ever, Mary Lee," said Nan with an answering laugh.