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"I'm sure she will," agreed Helen, as they went up the steps of the hospitable looking building and peered through the windows.
"When will it open?"
"Next week. I'm perfectly crazy about it; I can hardly wait," and one Ethel seized the other Ethel's hand and skipped down the steps with her.
"This next place must be the Boys' Club building if there is such a thing," said Helen.
"There is," cried Ethel Brown. "Dorothy told us so."
"Dorothy seems to know all about everything."
"She does. She was here last summer, and she says she has been all over the United States and she never had such a good time anywhere as she had here."
"We'll certainly have to belong, then. Are there any girls as old as I am?"
"Yes, and I asked if d.i.c.ky was too little to belong to the Boys' Club and Dorothy said that he wasn't if he wasn't babyish."
"d.i.c.ky isn't babyish."
"I told her that he could dress himself and that Mary didn't pay much attention to him any more and that he tried to do all the things that he saw Roger do and that he went on really long walks with us."
"So she thought they'd take him."
"I told her Roger called him a 'good little sport' and she said she guessed he was all right."
"Over there must be the bathing beach," said Ethel Blue as they turned away from the lake and started up another hilly street lined with houses.
"I hope there's a swimming teacher for you girls," said Helen. "Father taught me when I was smaller than you are, but you've never had a chance to learn yet."
"I'm going to learn this summer if I don't do another thing," exclaimed Ethel Brown enthusiastically.
"So am I," said Ethel Blue.
At the top of the hill the girls came out on an open place with a rustic fountain in the centre. At the left was a beautiful building shaped like a Greek temple. It was creamy in color and gleamed softly against a background of trees.
"What is that do you suppose?" wondered Ethel Blue.
"A-U-L-A C-H-R-I-S-T-I," spelled Ethel Brown as they stood gazing at the inscription over the door. "What does that mean?"
"_Aula, aula_," repeated Helen slowly. "Oh, I know; it's Latin for _hall_. That must mean Hall of Christ. It looks quite new."
"Probably it's another thing that's been built since Grandmother was here."
"We must ask her about it. Perhaps they have church there."
"It's a lot prettier than this building," and Ethel Blue nodded her head toward a large wooden house painted cream color. "C.L.S.C. Alumni Hall,"
she read. "What does that mean?"
"Children, Ladies, Sons and Chickens," guessed Ethel Brown.
"Come Let's See Chautauqua," contributed Ethel Blue.
"Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle," supplied a pleasant voice and the girls turned to meet the smile of a tall, slender woman who was on her way into the building. "That's the name of the a.s.sociation that does the Home Reading Course work."
"Oh, I know," cried Helen; "Grandmother joined when she was here ten years ago and Mother and Grandfather belong, too."
"Did your grandmother graduate?" asked the lady, who seemed much interested.
"She had her diploma sent to her. She hasn't been here since that first time."
"You must tell her that she must watch the _Daily_ for notices of meetings of her cla.s.s and that there are many festivities during Recognition Week that she can take part in."
"Grandfather and Mother are in this year's cla.s.s," said Helen shyly.
It proved that the lady knew their names and where they lived.
"You see I am the Executive Secretary of the C.L.S.C.," she explained in answer to the girls' look of surprise, "so I correspond with many people whom I never have a chance to meet unless they come here in the summer."
"Why, you must be Miss Kimball," cried Helen. "I've heard Mother speak of having letters from you."
"Yes, I'm Miss Kimball, and I hope you're going to be a Reader when your school work gives you time for it."
"It will be Roger's turn to join next," said Ethel Brown timidly; "he's older than Helen. And Ethel Blue and I'll belong later. There ought to be some member of the family joining every little while so that we can all go to special things every summer we come up here."
Miss Kimball laughed.
"I see you're already converted to Chautauqua though this is only your first day," she said. "Would you like to go into the C.L.S.C. building?
I have an errand here and then I'll walk over to the Hall of Philosophy with you."
The interior of the C.L.S.C. building was not more beautiful than the exterior, but it was full of interest as Miss Kimball explained it to her new companions. The C.L.S.C. cla.s.ses, it seemed, occupied the rooms for their meetings. So many cla.s.ses had graduated since the reading work began in 1878 that they could no longer have separate rooms. Sometimes three or four occupied the same room.
"There are plans on foot now," said Miss Kimball, "to have each room's decoration designed by an artist and when that is done it will be as perfect to look at as it is now to feel, for the C.L.S.C. spirit is always harmonious if the color schemes aren't.
"Here is your mother's and grandfather's cla.s.sroom, down stairs near the door. You've seen that every room has its treasures, its mementoes that mean a great deal to the cla.s.s members. The 1914 Cla.s.s hasn't had time to pick up mementoes yet but they have a really valuable ornament in these pictures. They are from a first edition of 'Nicholas Nickleby'
which one of the members found in her attic and sacrificed to the good cause."
The girls examined carefully the funny drawings of men with impossible legs and women with extraordinary skirts. Then they glanced at the bust above them.
"It's d.i.c.kens," said Helen.
"1914 is the 'd.i.c.kens Cla.s.s.' They began to read in the English Year--the year when all the topics were about England--so they took the name of an English author. Now if you've seen enough we can go over to the Hall of Philosophy for a minute before I must go back to my office."
The three girls were almost overcome by the wonder of being at Chautauqua only one day and meeting and talking with this officer whose name had been familiar to Helen, at least, for a long time. Her geniality prevented them from being speechless, however, and they walked across the open place with happy thoughts of all they would have to tell the family when they got home.
The rustic fountain was a gift from a C. L. S. C. cla.s.s, they learned as they pa.s.sed it, and here, ahead of them was the Hall of Philosophy.
"It's almost exactly like the picture in Helen's 'History of Greece,'"
cried Ethel Blue, "the temple at Athens, you know."