The next morning was dull, but dry, and they were ready early, for there were sixteen miles to be done before Stratford-on-Avon was reached.They were, however, easy miles, twelve of them being on the flat beside the Stour.
Mr.MacAngus had decided to stay on in those parts a little longer before ****** for Cropthorne, and therefore, after helping with the inspanning, as he called packing up, he said good-bye, but gave them a list of the places where it was worth while asking for him.They were sorry to lose him, but the immediate future was too exciting, with Stratford-on-Avon and Mrs.
Avory in it, to allow time for regrets.
After a day entirely without any adventures they found Mrs.Avory.She was waiting for them at the Shakespeare Hotel, which is one of the most fascinating inns in England, with staircases and passages in lavish profusion, and bedrooms named after the plays.Hester and her mother slept in the "Winter's Tale," Janet and Mary in "Cymbeline." Robert and Gregory were "The Two Gentlemen of Verona" for the time being, and Horace and Jack lay in the "Comedy of Errors." Kink and Diogenes were somewhere at the back, and the Slowcoach was in the yard, surrounded by motor-cars.
At the next table at dinner--in a beautiful old room with green matting on the floor and a huge open fireplace--sat an old gentleman with white hair and bright eyes behind very luminous spectacles, and from the tone in which he talked to the waiter they guessed him to be an American.After dinner he smoked cigarettes in an immensely long holder of amber and gold, and now and then smiled at the children.
They were all rather tired, and went quickly to bed.Robert, who, you remember, had been so contemptuous of the Shakespeare Hotel blankets and sheets, slept a full ten hours; never, indeed, can a Gentleman of Verona have passed a better night; and the others expressed no grief at having to lie in proper beds once more.
When they came down to breakfast the next morning, they found a letter addressed to Mr.KINK' S CHILDREN'S PARTY.
Shakespeare Hotel, Stratford-on-Avon.
Robert looked at it, and threw it down.
"Very offensive," he said.
Mrs.Avory handed it to Janet.
"Whoever can it be from?" Janet asked, turning it over and over."The postmark is Chiswick.""A good way to find out," said Gregory, "is to open it."Janet did so, and read it, laughing."It's an attempt at a nasty letter from William," she said."He's pretending to be cross because Jack won.
Poor William! Listen:
DEAR LITTLE ONES, "I hope you are having a good time in that stuffy caravan, and manage to avoid blisters.I thought you would like to hear that father has given me leave to go to Sheppey, and stay for three days with Mr.Fowler, who has promised to take me up in an aeroplane.I am also to have riding-lessons, and Aunt Mildred has promised me a pony, being so sorry to hear that I was done out of the caravan trip by a fluke.Uncle Jim has sent me 5 pounds.
According to the papers the weather is going to break up directly.Your affectionate and prosperous friend, WILLIAM ROTHERAM.
Jack was speechless with fury."The story-teller!" he cried.
But Mary laughed."I think it's rather clever," she said."It almost took me in.""Do you mean to say it's a good joke?" Jack asked.
"I think so," said Mary.
"I don't," said Jack."I think jokes ought to be straightforward.I think you ought to know exactly that they are jokes.""Miss Bingham," said Robert, "would say that such inventions were in poor taste.""So they are," said Jack.
"Poor William!" said Mrs.Avory."You oughtn't to be cross with him, Jack.
After all, he did lose when you tossed up.""Yes," said Jack."But, look here, Mrs.Avory, suppose some of it's true."At this they all roared, for it showed what Jack's trouble really was.
"Oh, Jack," said his sister, "you mustn't want everything.Even if it were true, you ought to be much happier here.""Have some more coffee, Jack," Mrs.Avory said quickly.
As it was Sunday, they went to Trinity Church (which usually costs sixpence to enter, because of Shakespeare's tomb--a charge of which I am sure the poet would not approve).As the words in the sermon grew longer and longer, Hester made renewed efforts to get a glimpse of the tomb, but it was in a part of the chancel that was not within sight.She had instead to study the windows, which she always liked to do in church; and she found herself repeating the lines on the tomb, which she had long known:
"Good friend, for Jesus sake forbeare To digg the dust enclosed heare:
Bleste be ye man Yt spares these stones, And curst be he yt moves my bones."On Sunday, even after service, the church was not on view, but the next day it was there that they hurried directly after breakfast, Hester carrying with her some little bunches of flowers.They paid their sixpences, and made straight for Shakespeare's tomb, and stood before the coloured bust--that bust which you see in reproduction at every turn in this loyal town.It is perhaps more interesting than impressive, and the children had a serious argument over it, Jack even daring to say that the face was stupid-looking, and Gregory declining almost petulantly to consider Shakespeare in the least like a swan.
Poor Hester, how to defend him against these horrid boys!
Janet came to the rescue by saying that Jack was probably thinking that the forehead was too high; but a high forehead was a sign of genius.
"It may be so," said Jack, "but father has a poor patient with water on the brain just like that." (What can you do with people, who talk in this way ?)"But, of course," said Horace, "it doesn't matter what he looked like really, because he didn't write the plays at all.They were written by Roger Bacon."This led to acute trouble.
"How can you say such wicked things!" Hester protested, bursting into tears.
"But I read it in a book," said Horace, who had not wished to hurt her, but still desired to serve the truth."It was sent to father.""Everything in books isn't true," said Janet.
"Oh, I say!" said Horace.
