d interview Casey.
And then, if you're good, I'll take you to call on Miss Carrington."

"The Symphony in Blue!" exclaimed Macloud. "Come along, man, come
along!"

VII

GREENBERRY POINT

There was no trouble with Casey--he had been mighty glad to take them.
And, at about noon of the following day, they drew in to the ancient
capital, having made a quick and easy run from Hampton.

It was clear, bright October weather, when late summer seems to linger
for very joy of staying, and all nature is in accord. The State House,
where Washington resigned his commission--with its chaste lines and
dignified white dome, when viewed from the Bay (where the monstrosity
of recent years that has been hung on behind, is not visible) stood out
clearly in the sunlight, standing high above the town, which slumbers,
in dignified ease, within its shadow. A few old mansions, up the Spa,
seen before they landed, with the promise of others concealed among the
trees, higher up, told their story of a Past departed--a finished
city.

"Where is Greenberry Point?" demanded Macloud, suddenly.

"Yonder, sir, on the far side of the Severn--the strip of land which
juts out into the Bay."

"First hypothesis, dead as a musket!" looking at Croyden. "There isn't
a house in sight--except the light-house, and it's a bug-light."

"No houses--but where are the trees?" Croyden returned. "It seems
pretty low," he said, to the skipper; "is it ever covered with water?"

"I think not, sir--the water's just eating it slowly away."

Croyden nodded, and faced townward.

"What is the enormous white stone building, yonder?" he asked.

"The Naval Academy--that's only one of the buildings, sir, Bancroft
Hall. The whole Academy occupies a great stretch of land along the
Severn."

They landed at the dock, at the foot of Market Place and inquired the
way to Carvel Hall--that being the hotel advised by Dick. They were
directed up Wayman's alley--one of the numerous three foot
thoroughfares between streets, in which the town abounds--to Prince
George Street, and turning northward on it for a block, past the once
splendid Brice house, now going slowly to decay, they arrived at the
hotel:--the central house of English brick with the wings on either
side, and a modern hotel building tacked on the rear.

"Rather attractive!" was Macloud's comment, as they ascended the steps
to the brick terrace and, thence, into the hotel. "Isn't this an old
residence?"