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 stay at home. So he said: "It isn't altogether John and the Aurora that I want to see. I've never seen Brooklyn. It's the city of churches. From the Bridge you can see all the steeples—hundreds and hundreds of them."

The miserable hypocrite spoke in a voice that had a touch of awe in it, and Mrs. Eaton very promptly gave her consent to the expedition.

"The walk won't hurt the boy," she said, "and it will be an inspiration to him to visit such a wonderful center of religion."

Edward did not wait to have this permission recalled. He kissed his Dear Mother, dashed into the hall for his hat and left by the back door. In so doing he paused in the pantry to make a modest little package of bread crusts and chocolate.

Ten minutes later he was walking the ties between Bartow and Baychester. Half of the distance was a low trestle over salt water, and you had to watch your step. But it wouldn't have mattered much to Edward if he had slipped and fallen through, for like all the young people brought up around Pelham Bay, he could swim like an eel.

It was noon when he reached the Harlem River and crossed by the old Third Avenue bridge. It was a hot noon too, and it was pleasant to find