Then the hundred thousand flags, very many of our own with their stripes and stars, and those of perhaps every other nation that has one to display—­were flung to the breeze, while bands from Cincinnati and Iowa, from Vienna, Suabia, and Arabia had all got together and were playing Yankee Doodle.

There were besides many curious bands of Oriental musicians—­some of them making great but futile efforts to play our national airs—­producing sounds that were by no means delightsome to the American ear; not half so pleasing as the sight of the multi-colored flags decorating the huts and castles of foreign architecture.

It turned out to be a day of pleasant surprises.  As they neared the end of the Plaisance they came suddenly and unexpectedly upon Chester and Frank Dinsmore and Will Croley, the old college mate of Harold and Herbert, whom none of them had seen since the summer spent together on the New England coast several years before.

All were delighted; cordial greetings on both sides were exchanged, and scarcely were these over when in a lady passing by Grandma Elsie recognized, with a little cry of joyous surprise, her old time friend and cousin, Annis Keith.

“Annis! oh, how glad I am to see you!” she exclaimed.

“Elsie! my dear, dearest cousin!” cried Annis in return, as they grasped each other’s hands and looked with ardent affection each into the other’s eyes.  “Oh, how delightful to have come upon you so quickly!  I was wondering if I could ever find you in all this crowd, and to have fairly stumbled upon you almost the first thing after leaving the cars is most fortunate.”

“Yes; for us as well as you, Annis,” Mr. Dinsmore said with a smile, offering his hand as he spoke.  “Are you just from Pleasant Plains?”

“Yes, sir; we left there this morning, and but a moment since stepped off the train that brought us—­nearly all the family of brothers and sisters with their children.”

“Why, yes, to be sure, here are Mildred and the doctor and—­well, really Charley,”—­shaking hands with Mildred and her husband—­“I will have to be introduced to all these younger folks.”

There was quite a crowd of them—­young, middle-aged, and elderly, for the families had been increasing in numbers, the younger ones growing in size, and all in years.

All wanted to be together for a time, the older ones to be able to talk freely of absent dear ones and other family matters, the younger to make acquaintance with each other.

“Suppose we take a car in the Ferris Wheel,” suggested Harold Travilla; “we can then have a ride, a grand view of the Fair grounds, and a chat, all at one and the same time.”

Everyone seemed to favor the proposition and without further discussion they all started in that direction.

Arriving at the place they climbed a broad stairway very much like the approach to an Elevated station.

“This way, ladies and gentleman,” said a man in a blue coat, pointing to a doorway between two knotted beams, and they passed into a sunshiny room with two rows of chairs at each side.  There were windows all about it barred with iron.