Mary Jane's City Home

by Clara Ingram Judson

But after the elevated was passed, the bus rolled out onto Michigan Boulevard and Mary Jane settled herself comfortably in her front seat with her mother, smiled across the aisle to Alice and her father and began to feel really at home in her high perch. By the time the bus had turned northward and crossed the river, she began to feel that riding on the top of a bus was the thing she’d been wanting to do all her life. It was such fun to sit up high and watch the lake, so blue and beautiful in the sunshine, the trees just getting a tinge of green at the tips, the pretty houses that lined the parkway, the people—it seemed as everybody in Chicago must be out in their ’tother best clothes—and most of all, it was fun to watch the automobiles dart in and out of the crowd, around the bus and beside it, till Mary Jane was sure their driver must be some wonderful being to be able to manage so that everybody stayed alive!

“Here, Mary Jane,” said Mr. Merrill, interrupting Mary Jane’s sight-seeing, “don’t you want to pay your fare—Alice is paying ours.” He slipped two dimes into her hand just as the conductor stepped to the front of the bus. Mary Jane wasn’t quite sure what she was to do with the dimes till she noticed that the conductor had in his hand a queer-looking thing like a clock, only it had a hole in the top just the right size for a dime. Into that hole Mary Jane dropped a dime. And—“dingding!” went a musical little bell somewhere in the “clock.” Then she dropped the other dime. And again the bell sounded, “dingding!” just as though it tried to say “Thank you!” that way. Alice then dropped her two dimes and Mary Jane had the fun of hearing the bell again. She thought she wouldn’t do a thing but watch the conductor and listen to his bell all the time he collected fares, but just as he stepped back to get the next folks’ money the bus passed in front of the queer old stone building with great tower that Mr. Merrill said was the city water works building, and of course that meant the girls wanted to hear about when it was built and hear again the story Mr. Merrill had started to tell them several evenings before about how the great Chicago fire started and how it burned up to this very spot they were now passing. Somehow, being at that place and seeing the one building that stood through the fire made the history stories seem very plain and there were a lot of questions to be asked and answered.

But buses don’t wait for questions—the girls soon discovered that! Long before the fire story was told they had raced up Lake Shore Drive, passed its beautiful old homes, and were turning into Lincoln Park. Here it seemed to the girls that the city ended and fairyland began. The grass seemed greener, the lake bluer and the trees greener than any place they had seen; and hundreds of tulips peeping up through the ground here, there and everywhere, made spots of bright vivid color and beauty.

“Oh!” exclaimed Mary Jane happily, “I hope the bus goes on and on forever! I’d like to keep on riding all the time!”

But when, a minute or two later, they passed near the buildings of the Zoo, Mary Jane forgot all about wanting to ride forever and wanted to get out, right away quick and see all the animals she had heard lived there.

“Not to-day,” said Mr. Merrill, looking at his watch. “You remember we are to go back to the stores—we’re just out for a bit of fresh air this time. Some other day when it’s still warmer so we can get our dinner here, then we’ll come and visit the Zoo. But to-day I want to get back to the stores before they close.”

“Of course,” added Alice, “for our umbrellas.”

“Of course for something else too,” laughed her father, and though both girls were very curious, not another word would he say.

So they stayed on the bus and rode clear through the park, and up Sheridan Road a long way till the bus turned around at a corner and the conductor shouted, “Far’s we go!”

But the Merrills didn’t get off. They wanted to keep those good front seats so they sat still and in about two minutes the bus started south and whirled them through the park and past all the same interesting sights on the way cityward. This time, Mary Jane felt very much at home in her high-up perch. She dropped in the dimes her father gave her, eyed the passing autos without a bit of fear and looked down on all the children she saw walking and playing quite as though she had lived in a city and ridden in busses all her young life.