Although it had been a gay scene in the afternoon, that was as nothing to the evening effect. Thousands,—millions, it seemed to Patty,—of electric lights in various wonderful devices, and in every possible colour, made the place as light as day, and the varied gorgeousness of the whole scene made it seem, as Patty said, like a big kaleidoscope.
They walked gaily along, mingling with the good-natured crowd, noticing various sights or incidents here and there, until they reached the great steel pier, where Mr. Allen invited them to go with him to the concert. So in they went to listen to a band concert. This pleased Patty, for she was especially fond of a brass band, but Mrs. Allen said it was nothing short of pandemonium.
“Your tastes are barbaric, Patty,” she said, laughing. “You love light and colour and noise, and I don’t believe you could have too much of any of the three.”
“I don’t believe I could,” said Patty, laughing herself, as the music banged and crashed.
“And that gewgaw you’ve got hanging around your neck,” went on Mrs. Allen; “your fancy for that proves you a true barbarian.”
“I think it’s lovely,” said Patty, looking at her gay-coloured beads. “I don’t care if I do like crazy things. Ethel likes these beads, too.”
“That’s all right,” said Mrs. Allen. “Of course you like them, chickadees, and they look very pretty with your light frocks. It’s no crime, Patty, to be barbaric. It only means you have youth and enthusiasm and a capacity for enjoyment.”
“Indeed I have,” said Patty. “I’m enjoying all this so much that I feel as if I should just burst, or fly away, or something.”
“Don’t fly away yet,” said Ethel. “We can’t spare you. There are lots more things to see.”
And so there were. After the concert they walked on, and on, continually seeing new and interesting scenes of one sort or another. Indeed, they walked so far that Mr. Allen said they must take chairs back. So again they got into the rolling chairs, and rolled slowly back to the hotel.