Part 18 (1/2)

Therefore, those two redoubtable adventurers, Billie and Nancy, went forth alone on the streets of London. Each carried a bundle and each wore an expression of mysterious importance.

”London Bridge!” exclaimed Billie exultantly, as they strolled down the old street, for there was plenty of time before their errand, whatever it was.

”What a lark!” cried Nancy. ”Oh, Billie, I adore London.”

”I love it, too,” said Billie. ”It's so old and gray and smoky and full of history--”

”And quaint little shops--”

”And buses and hansoms and carriages of state,” laughed Billie.

”And lords and ladies,” continued Nancy as a carriage load of very fine-looking people dashed past.

Presently they turned into a narrow little street, which Billie, excellent guide always, knew led toward the river and was a short cut to London Bridge.

”Perhaps we should have taken a hansom,” she said.

”No, no,” Nancy objected. ”It's lots more fun to walk and see the sights. Besides, we have plenty of time before the meeting,” she added in a lower voice.

”Isn't this a funny little print shop, Nancy-Bell? It's just a sort of hole-in-the-wall.” The two girls paused to look into a diminutive shop window filled with engravings and prints mellowed with age. ”There's Lady Penelope Boothby, I declare,” continued Billie, ”and the older she grows, the younger she looks. It's like the conundrum of the candle. The longer it stands, the shorter it grows.”

The girls pressed their faces against the gla.s.s to get a better view of the picture.

”Youth is always beautiful whether it's two hundred years old or seventeen years old,” said a voice near them.

A very old man was standing in the doorway regarding them with a benign expression.

”Step inside, young ladies, and take a look at some of the prints. I have still older pictures of still younger faces that might please you.”

The girls consulted a moment.

”Come on in,” urged Billie. ”We can give up ten minutes surely, and I love to go rummaging about an old shop like this.”

Into the little hole-in-the-wall, then, they went, and were greeted by a musty odor of old things laid upon shelves for ages past,-old pictures, old books; curios of all kinds,-j.a.panese devil fish, vases and cabinets.

The girls poked about the place curiously, peering into gla.s.s cases filled with faded relics: tarnished epaulettes from an old uniform; brocaded reticules; antique jewelry; little figures in ivory, mellowed with age.

”Here is something I would like,” said Nancy at last, ”because it's the quaintest, cutest, most adorable little thing I ever saw.”

”Will you name it, ma'am?” said the shop keeper smiling gently, but with a spark of triumph in his eye, as if he had been waiting for that moment.

”It's that little box shaped like a Swiss chalet with all the carving and the little front door with ivory k.n.o.bs,-how much is that?”

The old man took it out with a trembling hand and placed it on the show case.

”That's a little sandalwood jewel box,” he said. ”It smells good and is dainty to look at and is as pretty inside as out.”

He snapped a spring and the roof of the chalet lifted, disclosing its interior of wadded pale blue satin.

Nancy clasped her hands in admiration.