g people.

The guide went on in his deep voice. "Kenilworth was built in 1120, by
Geoffrey de Clinton, Lord Chamberlain to Henry I. Later, it came into
the possession of the great Simon de Montfort, and it then
successfully withstood a siege; but it was during the Civil Wars that
Cromwell's soldiers reduced the splendid castle to these almost
equally splendid ruins. Of course, it was at the height of its glory
when the Earl of Leicester owned it, and Queen Elizabeth came here on
a visit. I'm sure you have all read about that famous week,--of all
the pageants, feasts, carnivals, and displays of fireworks upon the
lake. The lake was there; water covered all those low fields back of
the castle. At that time, the main approach was here," pointing to
where a rustic bridge crosses a little ravine. "There was once a large
bridge there, and from that entrance the Queen had her first glimpse
of the castle where she was to be so magnificently entertained."

Just then Barbara saw that her mother had risen and was motioning
that it was time for them to go. So they reluctantly left the guide,
thanking him as Philip handed him his fee. That gentleman (for so he
really seemed) doffed his hat most politely, and appeared genuinely
sorry to have them go. As Betty turned to take a last look at the old
Banqueting-hall, she saw him standing just where they had left him,
and a bit wistfully watching them walk away. When they were once again
in the carriage and driving toward Coventry, they described the guide
to Mrs. Pitt, who showed much interest. Barbara thought that he was a
poor scholar or teacher, who was taking that way of earning a little
during the summer months; John was sure he was a nobleman in disguise,
for some highly romantic, secret reason; Philip could not even imagine
who he might be, so great was the mysterious atmosphere about him; but
Betty added: "He's surely a gentleman, and he was such an interesting,
polite guide, that I wish they were all like him."

"Yes, it is curious," agreed Mrs. Pitt. "I'd like to have been along
with you, for I should have enjoyed studying him. I have once or twice
before come across just such puzzling characters. I once spent a
month at a small hotel down in Devonshire, where there was a
head-waiter who always interested me. I decided that he must have a
history, and it was proved that I was right when I discovered him a
few months later, dining with a lady at one of the most aristocratic
h