an answer was unnecessary when he laughed so heartily that the ladies joined in. George was disgusted as he turned and remarked:
"Well, you made us drink the soup, all right, and I s'pose we all want turkey, but just you wait till dessert comes along – we're each going to eat ten plates of ice cream and make you pay for it, too!"
With that threat ringing in his ears, it was a wonder Mr. Parke enjoyed his dinner, but he did, and when dessert was ordered he watched the children eat two great dishes each of ice cream, and never blinked at the bill presented to him for it.
CHAPTER II
THE JOYS OF NEW YORK LIFE
"Oh, oh, but this is a bee-autiful station!" gasped George, when the tourists came from the train and entered the great domed concourse.
"Isn't it lovely? Look at the ceiling – all painted and lighted so fine!" sighed Martha, with satisfaction at art thus expressed.
"I should think everybody would get lost in this great place. Do you know where you are going, uncle?" said Jack, gazing first at the hurrying mobs going every way across the main hall to reach the numerous outlets.
"No, I am lost already! I shall have to ask a policeman to take us to the station-house for the night, so we can find ourselves again," replied Mr. Parke with a worried air, as he went over to speak to a man in uniform.
"Did he mean it?" whispered John to his mother.
She smiled and shook her head, as she replied: "He is going to order taxicabs to convey us to the hotel."
"What hotel are we going to?" wondered Martha.
"Well, seeing there are scores of fine hotels in New York, it is difficult to tell which one Mr. Parke will select," said Mrs. Parke.
Shortly after this the party was snugly seated in cabs and whirled away. There was no signboard over the door of the hotel so the children could not tell the name of it. At home, the hotel in the village where the store was, had a swinging sign to say that it was "The Washington Arms Hotel." But the uniformed men standing ready to open the doors, and the crowds of people sitting about reading or chatting were very interesting to the children. Palms, great easy chairs, clusters of electric lights – lights everywhere – made the scene one to be remembered.
"Must be something like the fine balls given Washington after the war," whispered Martha to her companions.
"If they only had on silk dresses and powdered wigs," returned John.
It was late in the afternoon when the party arrived at the hotel. Mr. Parke decided it would be useless to try and see any of the sights that day. Besides, they expected Mr. Davis every moment, as he said he would be waiting for them. But the train had been late, and he probably had become tired of waiting in the hotel lobby.
"I don't see how any one could tire of sitting down there and watching the fine folks," said Martha.
"If you saw things like that every day you'd soon weary of them," remarked Mrs. Davis.
And Martha wondered if Philadelphia were anything like New York, to make aunty speak of seeing such sights every day.
Before she had time to question about this interesting information, however, a cheery voice sounded outside of the large parlor they had with the suite of six rooms, and in came Mr. Davis.
After greetings were all over, Jack began: "Daddy, are we going to do anything to-day? We must not lose time, you know."
"Indeed no! Time is one of the things we can never find if it is once lost!" laughed Mr. Davis, patting Jack on the head.
"Well – then – " ventured Anne eagerly.
"I procured tickets for the 'Blue Bird' at the opera house to-night," replied Mr. Davis, showing the tickets to prove the wonderful news.
"Oo-oh! I've never been in a real live theatre before! We've gone to movies in the village – that's all!" cried John eagerly.
"Well, this is a real live one all right!" bragged Jack.
And so it was. It was an entrancing play, and the gowns of the audience, and the wonderful velvet curtains, and the gold boxes and trimmings of the opera house, all presented a dazzling sight. The visiting party had a large box quite near the stage, so that everything could be seen and heard.
The next morning Mrs. Graham left the others and started for her visit to her aunt, leaving John with his friends to accompany them on their historical tour of the city.
"The first thing I have on my program is a visit to the Statue of Liberty. As we will be near Governor's Island, we can have a look at the old fort there, and then on our way back to Battery Park, visit the Aquarium," said Mrs. Parke.
So they left the hotel to walk to a car.
"Is anything going on in New York to-day?" asked John.
"Not unusual. – Why?" wondered Mrs. Davis.
"Why, I see such a lot of people all running as if they were afraid of missing some big event," explained John.
The elders laughed. "That is the way New Yorkers always rush about. One would think their very lives depended upon the saving of a moment's time. And then they stand and stare at a silly advertisement, or listen to a street-corner peddler trying to sell his wares, and not only lose ten times the moments saved, but block the way for other sensible pedestrians, so that every one loses time," said Mr. Parke, who was escorting the ladies to the car.
At the head of a flight of steps, he started down.
"Where are you going, father?" cried Martha, aghast at her father's going down the cellar steps of some big house.
"To the train! Aren't you coming?"
"Train? I thought we were going to take one of these cars," exclaimed George, looking at a crosstown trolley.
"No, the subway takes us right down to South Ferry, where the boat leaves for Liberty Island," replied Mr. Parke.
This was a new experience. The children stared at the ceiled arch overhead, and wondered if it would cave in while they had to wait for a train. Then the roar and rush of a long, snake-like string of cars swung around the bend and came to a sudden jerky halt opposite them. It was the northbound train.
Then it rushed and roared out again, but before any one could catch his breath, another roar and rush sounded right before their very noses, and a brilliantly-lighted train of cars stopped beside the platform, and the guard shoved open the doors that had no handles or hinges.
They all hurried in, crowds behind pushing wildly to get in first. Inside, the long rows of seats on both sides of the cars were filled with all sorts of people, and our travellers were compelled to stand up in the aisle.
As the train went further downtown, the crowds increased until George said: "Every New Yorker must be travelling to South Ferry this morning."
At Brooklyn Bridge many of the passengers got out, and Mr. Parke pushed his party into seats – one here, one there, some down the aisle in vacancies. Before he could get back to a seat himself an entirely new mob of passengers rushed on, and violently struggled to crowd in between other seated fellow-beings.
"Say, Jack, I've been trying to figure up all the money this company made since we got on the cars at Grand Central," said George to his cousin.
"Yes, and I think it would be a good thing for you and me to plan about our future business careers. S'pose we open a subway line like this and run opposition. Besides making a lot of money easy, we will help the public, 'cause there won't be such a fearful crowd going on two lines as there is on one," said Jack with good logic.
"You're right! And what's more, we'll make our guards act politely to folks. I saw that horrid man slam the door right in an old man's face, as he was going to step inside! And those side doors were only opened once since we started, yet crowds of people waited outside and got left when the train pulled out of the station, and the guard leaned over the platform and laughed!" declared George, who, although on his first trip, saw conditions that make New Yorkers fume and fret, without redress anywhere.
At