Free Tesla's Time Travelers by Tim Black Page A

arrive in the carriage to pick up her guests?”
    “I don’t know, Bette,” Minerva said. “I don’t think Peggy Shippen is too conventional. She looks like just the type of girl who would flaunt convention and show up in the carriage by herself. And from what I’ve read Thomas Jefferson was pretty persuasive. He changed the world.”
    “Because the world had a heart,” Bette replied. “Miss Shippen has no heart. Besides, Minerva, you are missing the point. We won’t be here, so what butterflying can possibly happen? I repeat: Shippen has no heart, just like the Tin Man.”
    “I’m confused,” Victor said. “In your Wizard of Oz metaphor, Bette, is Peggy Shippen the Wicked Witch or the Tin Man?”
    “Never mind, Victor,” Bette said. “Let’s forget Peggy Shippen for now.”
    “Good idea,” Minerva agreed.
    Victor shrugged. Fine with him. He didn’t feel comfortable interpreting metaphors anyway. Literature was not his best subject. “It’s eleven,” he said. “We have an hour before we have to meet Mr. Greene at City Tavern. Let’s walk over to Arch Street and see if he’s at Betsy Ross’s house. That’s where Mr. Greene was heading. Maybe we’ll run into Mrs. Beard. I think we ticked her off by ignoring her.”
    The girls nodded agreement, and Minerva said that she was surprised ghosts were so touchy with their feelings. Bette agreed that Mrs. Beard was acting childish, and the trio proceeded up Front Street North, turning west on Chestnut, then down a block before going north on 2 nd Street. On the corner of 2 nd Street and High Street (Market Street today) was Dunlap’s print shop.
    “This is where the broadside of the Declaration of Independence in our classroom was printed,” Bette said. “There’s the Friends Meeting House across the street.”
    “It’s so plain,” Minerva said.
    “No fuss, no bother, that’s the Quakers,” Victor said.
    They turned left again on High Street, and then turned north again on 3 rd Street, passing Christ Church, their eyes looking up at its white steeple. It was the church where Washington and many of the other Founding Fathers worshipped when they were in Philadelphia. The tuneful bells were ringing out a melody as the three students approached.
    “What’s the song?” Minerva asked.
    “The Doxology,” Victor said. “I read somewhere that it had a full octave of chimes.”
    “The chimes sound beautiful,” Bette said, and began singing: “Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise Him all creatures hear below…”
    “Minerva, what made you think of indigo?” Victor asked as Bette finished the song.
    “Fourth grade Florida history,” she replied. “I did a report for the history fair on an early St. Augustine area plantation and they grew indigo, and when I saw the royal blue of Peggy Shippen’s coat I just thought of it.”
    “Oh,” Victor thought. He never understood how girls could see so many colors. Royal blue? How was that different from plain old blue? And what the heck was chartreuse anyway? And puce? Why couldn’t they just see red, white and blue? It was another mystery about girls. Still, he admitted to himself, he wasn’t shy around Minerva Messinger any longer. She wasn’t nearly as stuck up as he had thought she was.
    “Peggy Shippen didn’t get your joke, ‘to die for,’ Minerva,” Bette said.
    “No, she didn’t,” Minerva shrugged, but added a smile. “No sense of humor I guess.”
    Victor was momentarily lost in Minerva’s smile. He wondered what Minerva would be like to kiss. Stop thinking about it, he scolded himself. Stay at the task at hand. Worry about Minerva’s lips when you get home, stupid.
    “Victor, are you okay?” Minerva asked. “You seem far away.”
    “Sorry,” he said, “I was thinking about Christ Church.” That sounded good, he thought. Now change the subject. “Look, Arch Street. Half a block left is the Ross house.”
    The house of Mrs. John Ross, aka Betsy , was a brick