Ben, who had never been taken care of in his life, was taken about in a chair, and looked after in a way that made him wonder if he were not dreaming, and if he should not be wakened presently by the sound of his father’s drunken voice.
Robin found himself more than once rubbing his forehead in a puzzled fashion.
Meg felt rather as if she had become a princess. Somehow, she and John Holt seemed to have known each other a long time. He seemed to like to keep her near him, and always kept his eye on her, to see if she was enjoying herself, and was comfortable, or tired. She found herself being wheeled by Ben, when John Holt decided it was time for her to rest. He walked by her and talked to her, answering all her questions. More than once it flashed into her mind that it would be very awful when all this joy was over, and they parted, as they would. But they were going to see him to-morrow, he had said.
It seemed as if they marched from one climax of new experience to another.
“You’re going to dine with me,” he announced. “You’ve had enough hard-boiled eggs. And we’ll see the illuminations afterwards.”
He took them to what seemed to them a dining-place for creatures of another world, it was so brilliant with light, so decorated, so gorgeous. Servants moved to and fro, electric globes gleamed, palms and flowers added to the splendor of color and brightness. John Holt gave them an excellent dinner; they thought it was a banquet. Ben kept his eyes on John Holt’s face at every mouthful—he felt as if he might vanish away. He looked as if he had done this every day of his life. He called the waiters as if he knew no awe of any human being, and the waiters flew to obey him.
In the evening he took them to see the City Beautiful as it looked at night. It was set, it seemed to them, with myriads of diamonds, all alight. Endless chains of jewels seemed strung and wound about it. The Palace of the Flowers held up a great crystal of light glowing against the dark blue of the sky, towers and domes were crowned and diademed, thousands of jewels hung among the masses of leaves, or reflected themselves, sparkling, in the darkness of the lagoons, fountains of molten jewels sprung up, and flamed and changed. The City Beautiful stood out whiter and more spirit-like than ever, in the pure radiance of these garlands of clearest flame.
When first they came out upon it Robin involuntarily pressed close to Meg, and their twin hands clasped each other.
“Oh, Meg!” cried Robin.
“Oh, Robin!” breathed Meg, and she turned to John Holt and caught his hand too.