“Thank you, for your explanation, Mr. Dinsmore,” Miss Austin said pleasantly, as they resumed their seats; “it has given me an entirely new view of the matter, so that I now think you Americans are quite right in your devotion to your flag, and your constant display of it.  And this Fair,” she went on, “is wonderful—­the White City a perfect fairyland; especially at night, with its blaze of electrical lights and its many colored electric fountains.”

“So we all think,” said Harold Travilla.  “Have you been in the Electric Building yet?”

“Not yet,” she replied, and her brother added:  “But we intend going.  The evening is the best time for a sight of its wonders, I presume?”

“Yes; we have planned to go to-night, and would be glad to have you accompany us.”

The invitation, overheard by the older people and cordially endorsed by the captain, was promptly accepted by the three Austins, and as the shades of evening began to fall, all but the little ones, already in their nests, returned to the shore and were presently in the Electrical Building, enjoying to the full its magical splendor.

Croly was devoting himself to Rosie Travilla, Frank Dinsmore endeavoring to make himself useful and entertaining to Grace Raymond and Evelyn Leland, while his brother and Percy Landreth, Jr., vied with each other and Albert Austin in attentions to Lucilla, leaving Miss Austin to the charge of Harold and Herbert, who were careful to make sure that she should have no cause to feel herself neglected.

They spent some time in viewing the marvels of the Electric Building, finding the lights giving it a truly magical splendor not perceptible by day.  It seemed full of enchantment, a veritable hall of marvels; they were delighted and fascinated with the glories of the displays, and lingered there longer than they had intended.

On passing out, the party broke up, the Austins bidding good-by and going in one direction, Croly carrying off Rosie in another, the Pleasant Plains people vanishing in still another.

“Will you take a boat ride with me, Lucilla?” asked Chester in a rather low aside.

“If the rest are going,” she returned laughingly.  “I’m such a baby that I cling to my father and don’t want to go anywhere without him.”

“You mean the captain does not allow it?” Chester said enquiringly, and with a look of slight vexation.

“Oh,” she laughed, “I’m not apt to ask for what I don’t want, and I never want to be without papa’s companionship.”

“Humph!  I had really labored under the delusion that you were grown up.”

“Does that mean, ready to dispense with my father’s society?  In that case I don’t mean ever to be grown up,” she returned with spirit.

“Well, really!” laughed Chester, “if I am not mistaken, my sisters considered themselves about grown up, and altogether their own mistresses when they were no older than you are now; though, to be sure, I don’t profess to know your age exactly.”