“Do you like him?”
“Yes, but he wants me to marry his daughter.”
“Well?”
“She won’t have me, as she loves my cousin, Aunt Roban’s son. Her father
expects our betrothal at this time.” He stops a moment, then resumes.
“He is engaged, himself, to be married to Aunt Robet, who does not dare
to tell him of his coming disappointment.”
“How did she, so gentle, ever fancy so douty a man?”
“It was at a ride. The cavalry were going by so swift she became dizzy
and was falling, when he by a deft move put her back. When he appears,
ever since, she is like affected. He is coming now.”
With a start, I look up to the sky, which is clear. Then I look about at
the celebrators, thinking he may be come to earth, and be among them.
And though I see a strange mist in the distance, I become occupied in
studying the various modes of conveyance close around. Of every odd
design, one vehicle is oddest. It is a round glass globe that rolls over
and over, bearing its inmates upright, ballasted in the interior. It has
only ladies, so I look ahead.
Ahead is a bridge, shaped like a flight of stairs (rests for the
horses). Around the farther tower arches—strong supports of the
suspended ends—a mist is twining and winding, glistening peculiarly.
Show Off seeing my intent gaze looks there, and hastily takes from his
father’s pocket a glass and absorbedly scans the mist. I had forgotten
the Traveler’s approach, of shock to Robet, who leans back her head
gasping faintly. But directly over us is the shocking man, on a high
seat, over high runners, between which glides our humble sleigh. At Show
Off’s shout, he looks down, his stern face relaxing genially, recovering
Robet.
Thus disturbed, Show Off drops the glass, which I pick up, wonderingly.
One look, and I am curious too. For deep within the luminous vapor are
human beings, lace seated and draped. They are singing, their
countenances reflecting the inspiring symphony. Studying closely, I
detect a peculiarity of expression, as if masculine and feminine are
combined, both strong and tender. Coming swiftly, and bending low, they
must brush us as they pass. A child in front of adult, eyes exhilarantly
my exotic bouquet. I select a dainty bud, and raise it over my head. The
gust shuts my eyes. But I feel a tiny touch that wisps away my bud. From
our slow journeying, we are too late to make our address at Roban’s,
before the election, which occurs to-day. So proceed to that function.
Seated comfortably upon the Central Plaza, a nice esplanade covered with
rugs, we are scarcely seated when two ladies and a gent approach us, who
by their family resemblance are no doubt sisters of Robet. One hugs her
tremblingly. The other is hugged vigorously by Savant, his wife Roba.
She is, though of exact likeness, still of different temperament from
the others. More sedate, quite stately, though none the less lovable.
When Savant puts my father with his silver hair and shining black eyes
on her lap, she is quite awe struck. When my father reaches up and
kisses her reverently on the cheek; she is more nonplussed still, and
takes her muff to sit him on.
The gent is no doubt the husband of the other sister, who snaps his
fingers at Charley, when he wishes he did not, for the latter bites it
viciously; then rubbing the bite over, he lays his cheek on it, in
penitence. He is forgiven, but not taken up on his lap, but I am
instead, and smile profusely to keep the peace. Saucy is on Roban’s
shoulder, and chatting like a parrot into her ear, which just suits this
lady, she answering as glibly.
“O, how late you are! We could not wait for you, but left the castle
open and came on. Has the Traveler come?” That individual passes without
seeing us. Before we hail him, we hear music of a band approach. The
melody is whistling as will Boreas shortly whistle over the land.
Conducting two lines in grand march, in election mode, headed by the
chosen Mayor and Mayoress, respectively, or as they call them, god and
goddess.
The evolutions ended, the two lines join, and the crowd standing, all
sing.
E’er the sun our father leaves us
He, as a parent, leads us
To the indoor mother’s side
To spend the winter tide.
The candidates, now in full view, are recognized by Robet with
consternation. “Roban’s son, and his daughter,” are her startling words.
We all turn silently toward Roban’s home. The ceremonies now ended. The
new city officers, receiving congratulations around, also join our
party, staying in our rear.
The castle supposed to be open is not so now, but is double barred
inside against us, as we arrive.
Through the crystal portal, we see in the center court, sitting
nonchalantly as revengefully, the man who rode over us. We are out in
the cold, and what is worse, quite hungry.
Savant calls out, “Hello, neighbor.” He arises and is about to come
forward, when his daughter laughs out, “Now papa, good papa,” which
stops him, and he turns square his back to us.
Beyond and near to him is a revolving plant stand, reaching high above
his head. A plant is moving mysteriously. I see my father under a leaf
(I had not missed him). He is arranging something under a blossom. I
cannot tell what.
Now before us and at our feet down drops the nervous Robet, who cannot
keep her dignity longer.
Around goes the plant stand and sounds out this word, which is from a
phonograph (placed by father) in Arc, “Look ye.” Around again, it is
above him. “Looky,” now one side, now behind. Mystified, the stolid man
looks around as directed, not at our faces, where he will see the
mirthful countenance of his daughter, but at our feet where he sees a
countenance pale and in tears. The spell is broken, and as father leaps
on his shoulder like a good fairy, he lets us in.
A castle band now starts up to a tune resembling the snapping of a fire,
reminding us of the day of the Inning Fireside. Now crackling forth with
renewed zest, the people arrange themselves in cavalcade, and slowly
march, with spiral inclination, around the hall, towards its center.
Robet, supported by her lover, pulls me out of her bag to amuse him,
much to my ill-will. But father winks to me over his head, and pulls his
hair. Nearing the center of the room, the Traveler firmly and (I see his
daughter grimacing close by) turning from the pleading Robet goes out of
the room, and out of the house, disappearing down the street.
Wondering at this action, I look for information, to the center
gathering, I see a crystal floor in circle shape, with round divans in
its center. I am mystified as we are seated on this divan, and look down
at the crystal floor. I get a great start, for my feet seem to be
standing up in the sky, so far down is the crevasse below, whence comes
up a brilliant glow, the only light in the apartment now, as blinds and
shades are placed to protect it. Whence this light arises, I cannot
imagine, as the sun is not in focus, or other light.
I take a great like to Roban, who is as friendly as vivacious. I get
upon her lap to hear her chat.
“Good-bye,” she says, “my upper sky home, for the winter. My plant stand
you may rest until spring (outing as she calls it).”