Mrs. Page dropped her head on her husband's shoulder.
"Gorham thought—thought that—that perhaps Blitzen—had killed Electra," she gasped.
"How intensely amusing," remarked Robert. "This girl is tired to death, Gorham," he went on, patting his wife's convulsed shoulder. "She thinks she doesn't want to go home, but I know it is time. Mrs. Van Tassel urges our remaining. What a spirit of sunshine she is! If ever there was an angel in a house, she is one."
Hilda lifted her head, to look at Gorham's face. She found it beaming upon his brother with tender delight, and falling back she relapsed into another spasm of laughter.
"Stop this, stop this," said her husband, giving her a little shake.
"I am really afraid Hilda isn't well," said Gorham with concern. "I am sorry if she is too tired, for I wanted to see if you all wouldn't like to come over to the dance at the hotel to-night."
"That is sensible, profoundly sensible," remarked his brother. "What could finish off a day at the Fair more appropriately than a dancing party!"
"You've got to go, Robert," said Hilda, wiping her eyes. "It will be lovely. We will smoke on the piazza, and watch the others through the windows."
"Yes, I know how you enjoy looking on at a dancing party."
"Yes, thank you, Gorham, we will come," continued Mrs. Page relentlessly. "I shall just go down to the Court of Honor for one last look," she added, sighing. "I will go up in that little balcony at the corner of the Electrical Building, and gaze once more down the stately, spacious square. I shall see the peacock-blue lake through the columns of the Peristyle, look up into the Italian sky roofing all, and say my prayers or sing the doxology; then I shall come home and pack. Oh, Robert, how can we leave it all!"