"i am so mixed up in my feelings," said edna in confidence to dorothy when they were seated in the train. "i want awfully to see them all at home, but yet i hate to leave here."

"i feel exactly that way myself," dorothy confessed. "but even if we weren't going to-day we couldn't stay very long, for the house will be closed next week, and we shouldn't want to stay there alone."

edna admitted that this was true, and then jennie came over to sit with them and they talked of the things they were to see and the places they were to go in the next two days.

"i think we will go to the old north church first," said mrs. ramsey as they left the train. "we will send the baggage to the hotel, then we will not have to come to this part of the city again."

"oh, what a funny place," said jennie, as they took their way through streets where queer-looking foreigners congregated.

"i think the people are funnier than the place," remarked edna.

"they are mostly polish or russian jews," mrs. ramsey told her. "it is not the neighborhood it was in paul revere's day. here is the old church."

the children looked with awe and reverence at the ancient edifice, and, going inside, were shown some of the revolutionary relics which were there on exhibition. just as they were coming out they met a young man coming in.

"hallo!" he cried in surprise.

"why if it isn't ben," cried edna delightedly. "why ben barker how did you get here?"

"i might ask you the same question," he replied.

"we came by train."

"and i came by boat. i thought it was a shame to be so near this city and not stop off to see a few things, so i got my friends to let me off and left the yacht to go on to new york while i should stop here for couple of days."

"that is just what we are going to do."

"good! then maybe we can join forces."

"that would suit me nicely," put in mrs. ramsey. "my husband will not be down till to-morrow evening in time to take the train for fall river, and meantime i have these three little girls on my hands and no man to look after us, so if you will come along to see about tickets and things i should be pleased."

161so ben fell into line to the great satisfaction of all. "where were you going next?" he asked.

"as long as it is such a pleasant day i thought we'd better make sure of lexington and concord, and leave the places nearer at hand till to-morrow. of course you will want to visit harvard, and the children have talked of the glass flowers so much that they must see them. while you are visiting other points more interesting to you, we will look at the flowers."

"then, ho, for lexington! we must take a subway car, and seek the 'rude bridge' where 'the embattled farmers stood to fire the shot heard 'round the world.'"

the little girls did not quite understand this till emerson's poem was explained to them.

"oh, i do want to see the place where the british general said: 'disperse, ye rebels,'" cried dorothy.

"then we'd better trot right along," said ben. "you and i will go ahead, mrs. ramsey, and lead the way."

but jennie wanted to walk with her mother too, and so the other two little girls dropped behind to pursue their way through the crooked streets where odd sights met their eyes; queerly dressed women and children jostled them; at the doors of houses swarthy faces and strange forms appeared. the shop windows held many things the children had never seen before, and once or twice they stopped to see what these very unusual articles could be. 162"do look here, edna," said dorothy as they were passing one particularly foreign looking place. "i must see what those funny things are," and she turned back, edna following her.

"we mustn't stop," said edna, "for we might lose the others."

"oh, just for a second. they are right ahead and we can't miss them." but they could not decide what the funny things were and so went on.

"why, where are ben and mrs. ramsey?" said edna in alarm. "i saw them a minute ago."

"they were right ahead of us when we stopped," said dorothy, hastening her steps. "they must have turned the corner."

they hurried along as fast as possible, turning the corner and looking around. but there was no sign of their friends, and after they had gone a short distance, "we'd better go back," dorothy said.

they tried to retrace their steps, but it was a very crooked street with others leading from it, and in their bewilderment they took the wrong turning, so that in a few minutes they were hopelessly beyond any possibility of finding their companions. they looked at one another confronted by a problem.

"what shall we do?" at last said edna in a weak voice.

with one consent they stood still and looked around as if hoping to see a familiar face, but here 163was a denser crowd of foreigners and only the dark eyes of russians and poles met theirs.

"i don't like it a bit here," said dorothy as a hideous old woman leered down at them.

"neither do i," quavered edna. "i think we'd better ask our way back to the church and start from there."

they accosted the first person they saw, who happened to be a young girl, but at their question she shook her head. "no unnystan," she replied.

the next one questioned nodded and began to jabber something in a foreign language, so it was the children's turn to say, "no unnystan." the next of whom they inquired the way spoke brokenly, but said he would put them on the right track, and under his guidance they managed to reach the church, and here they met a man in clerical dress who looked down at them with a smile. "did you come to see the old church?" he asked. "i am going in, and perhaps you would like to come with me."

"we have been here once this morning," dorothy told him, "but we have lost our friends and don't know which way to go."

"where were they going?"

"why, i don't know, i think to the subway."

"oh, that is easy to find. i will call a policeman and he will take you along and show you." he looked up and down the street and finally saw a policeman in the distance, and he was coming toward them.

"there he is," said the man. "just wait till he comes up. i say, mike," he called to the policeman, "just show these little girls the way to the subway, won't you? they have turned the wrong way and are out of their bearings." he smiled down on the children, lifted his hat and passed into the church, leaving the children with the policeman.

"which way was you going?" asked the policeman pleasantly.

"we were going to lexington," edna told him.

"then i'll go with you to the end of my beat and pass you along, so's you'll get on at the right place."

they walked quietly along wondering a little, as passers-by looked at them curiously, if it was supposed they were under arrest. they felt a good deal worried, but had a vague idea that the others would wait for them at the subway, wherever that might be.

true to his word the policeman turned them over to another of his order when they had reached the end of his beat, and this one piloted them safely to the entrance of the subway. they had said so confidently that they were going to lexington that neither man questioned, but that they knew the way once they had reached the proper station.

they descended the steps with some misgivings, for if mrs. ramsey and ben were not there what was to be done next? they had never been in the subway before for mrs. ramsey had wanted them to see the city streets when they had visited the city in the summer, and had taken a taxicab to go up town. mr. ramsey had done the same when they arrived on their journey in his company. a most bewildering place they found this same subway to be, full of people rushing for trains, noisy from the whizzing of cars from out of cavernous dark places and departing into equally unknown darkness. it seemed terrible to the two little girls and they were on the verge of tears. impossible to find anyone in such a place as this. best to get out of it as speedily as they could. the roaring of passing trains was so confusing, the jostling of the crowd was so unpleasant that the children held fast to one another and hurried up the steps and into the open air.

"oh, dear," sighed edna.

"oh, dear," echoed dorothy. "wasn't it terrible? i felt as if i were having a dreadful nightmare."

"i felt as if my head had been taken off and they were rolling it up and down the car tracks." this relieved the tension a little and they both laughed. "now what are we going to do?" said dorothy.

they stood on the sidewalk looking this way and that, uncertain what would be the best move. presently a lady who had just come out of the subway, paused and looked at them. "have you lost anything, little girls?" she asked kindly.

"we've lost our way and our friends," edna told her.

"my, my, that is a great deal to lose. where do you want to go?"

"we were going to lexington, but it was so awful down there," edna nodded toward the door through which they had just come, "and we would not go back for the world."

the lady smiled. "but what about your friends? do they live in lexington?"

"oh, no, we are all staying at the parker house. we went to see the old north church, and we were going to lexington and concord, all of us, but somehow we got separated from them, and we couldn't find them anywhere."

"we knew they were coming to the subway, for ben said so," dorothy chimed in, "and we thought we might find them there. a policeman showed us the way."

"that was like looking for a needle in a haystack," said the lady, "for you didn't know which of the subway stations they meant, did you? there are a great many, you know."

"we didn't know, for we never went down there before. we thought the subway was just one station, like the one we came into from the shore."

"oh, i see. well, i am a stranger in town too, that is, i don't live here, although i know boston pretty well. i am staying at the parker house, and 167as it isn't so very far from here, i think your best plan will be to go to the parker house with me and wait there. i am sure your friends will think that is what you would be likely to do, and will make inquiries there before starting up an alarm for you."

"oh, do you think they would do that? do you mean they would ring bells or anything?" dorothy asked with a vague idea of what might be done in the case of lost children.

"they mightn't ring bells," said their friend with a smile, "but they would notify all the police stations."

edna nodded. "that's what papa did when i was lost. i wasn't really lost, only i was afraid of the cattle and i went up the steps so fast i fell and mrs. porter lived there; she was a friend of mine, you know." dorothy had heard all about this adventure before, and their new friend did not press inquiries. she felt sure the children would be anxiously looked for and that it was best to get them to their hotel as soon as could be.

it gave the two little girls a great sense of security to enter the place from which they had departed that morning, and they were heartily glad to reach the building. they found out that their kind acquaintance was named mrs. cox, and that she was from washington. she told the clerk, at the desk, that if mrs. ramsey or any of her party came in or telephoned inquiries, that they were to be told instantly the little girls were there.

"i am always getting lost, it seems to me," said edna plaintively, "and yet i am never really lost, or i wasn't before this time, only people will keep thinking i am. you know, dorothy, i was perfectly safe at the bungalow when louis thought i was lost, and i was perfectly safe at mrs. porter's when papa and mamma thought i was lost."

"and you are perfectly safe now when mrs. ramsey thinks you are lost," added dorothy in a somewhat aggrieved tone. she felt a little conscience-stricken, knowing she was to blame in this instance, for it was she who insisted upon stopping to look in at the shop window.

they had not very long to wait, for from their place in the reception room, where mrs. cox told them it would be best to sit, they presently saw ben hurrying along, a worried look on his face. the two children sprang out. "here we are," they cried.

ben rushed over and grabbed them both. "you young lunatics," he exclaimed, "don't you know better than to get yourselves lost in a city like boston?"

"we didn't mean to, ben," said dorothy meekly.

"you didn't mean to," mimicked ben in a mocking voice. "well, you have scared us nearly to death, if that is any consolation to you."

"where are mrs. ramsey and jennie?" asked edna, fearing one or the other might be in hysterics for ben's manner was anything but reassuring.

"they are in a cab trying to follow you up. mrs. ramsey said she would go over the ground we had just left when we missed you, and in the meantime i was to come here, if by any chance you had sense enough to come straight back to the hotel."

the children looked at each other with rather abashed faces, for they had not had sense enough to do that, and might not have thought of it but for mrs. cox.

"before you give an account of yourselves," ben went on, "i must telephone to mrs. ramsey and relieve her mind. we agreed that i was to do that and settled on a drug store where she would go to get any message i might have." he rushed off, leaving the little girls feeling very guilty. after all that mrs. ramsey had done for them to give her so much uneasiness, struck them both as being very heartless.

"i wish that old window was in the bottom of the sea before i ever stopped to look in," presently said dorothy vindictively.

edna made no reply. she knew that it was not the fault of the window, but of their own curiosity and heedlessness. they should have kept directly behind their friends, she well knew. her mother had told her times enough that it was cowardly to blame inanimate objects for things which we were to blame for ourselves, and aunt elizabeth went further and said no one but a person without any wits would abuse a senseless thing for what was his own thoughtlessness or carelessness.

but she was spared moralizing upon this to dorothy, for ben returned saying that mrs. ramsey would be here in a few moments and that the expedition to lexington and concord would be given up for the day, as it was too late now to undertake so long a trip. he was quite grumpy about it and the little girls were most unhappy at being under his displeasure, for ben was usually the sunniest of persons and rarely gave them a cross look. he did not stay to talk to them now, but went to the door to meet mrs. ramsey when she should return and the children sat one at either end of the sofa, silent and downcast.

mrs. cox had not waited for further developments once she had seen that her charges were safe, and had gone out again. after what was a long time to the two culprits they saw mrs. ramsey and ben approaching with jennie. at sight of them edna could no longer restrain her tears, but burst into a noiseless fit of weeping, and dorothy, seeing this, began to do the same.

this was too much for ben. he was very fond of his little cousin and hated to see her cry. "here, here," he cried, "don't do that. why, ande, you are safe now. what's the use of crying when it's all over?" he sat down beside her and began to wipe away the tears. "i say, mrs. ramsey," he went on, looking up, "it is really my fault as much as theirs. in that thickly settled part of the city, among all those crooked streets, i ought to have kept a better lookout for these children, and we don't know yet how it happened, anyhow. i haven't even asked them. they may have been knocked down or anything else may have happened for all we know."

the two felt that this was very generous of ben, and their tears flowed less plentifully. mrs. ramsey drew up a chair and said in a pleasant, confidential tone, "now tell us all about it. how did it happen?"

the children faltered out an explanation in which the queer things in the shop-window, the hideous old woman, the man at the church and the subway all figured. once or twice mrs. ramsey repressed a smile, though for the most part she listened very soberly. at the close of the narrative she turned to ben. "it is just as you said; we ought to have kept better watch upon them. one of us should have walked with them instead of leaving them to follow alone."

ben nodded. "that's just what i think. now, chicks, dry your eyes. we are going to have an early lunch and go somewhere, to see the glass flowers, very likely."

"yes," put in jennie, "please don't cry any more, girls. it makes me so miserable to see you. i might have done the same thing if i had been with you."

thus comforted, the girls dried their eyes and followed jennie and mrs. ramsey upstairs to bathe their faces and get ready for lunch. it was too bad to have lost a whole morning, but there could be a great deal crowded into an afternoon, and, by the time the glass flowers had been found, peace reigned and everyone was happy.

there was a drive around the beautiful parkway that evening and a visit to the splendid library that night. "we shall have to leave plymouth rock till another year," mrs. ramsey remarked as they set out for their trip the next morning. "i think you will enjoy lexington and concord more than a rather longer journey by water as you have just come from the seashore." this time there was no delay and there was plenty of time to visit the old battle-field, to see the brown house where dear louisa alcott used to live, to hunt up emerson's home and the spot endeared by memories of hawthorne. ben was intensely interested in it all and told the girls many things which made them understand much better what they were seeing.

they must return in time to meet mr. ramsey at the parker house, and to get ready for their journey home, but there was a chance to walk through the botanical gardens and the commons, to look across at the gilded dome of the state house, and to see the church where the great phillips brooks had preached.

it was hard to part with jennie and her mother, but the thought of home and the dear ones there 173was too happy an anticipation to cause any tears to be shed, and the little girls went off with a memory of boston marred only by that unfortunate shop window in the foreign quarter.