“Oh, John Holt!” she said; “John Holt!”
Very primitive and brief exclamations of joy, but somehow human beings have uttered them just as simply in all great moments through centuries.
John Holt knew just the degree of rapturous feeling they expressed, and he held Meg’s hand close and with a warm grasp.
They saw the marvellous fairy spectacle from all points and from all sides. Led by John Holt, they lost no view and no beauty. They feasted full of all the delight of it; and at last he took them to a quiet corner, where, through the trees, sparkled lights and dancing water, and let them talk it out.
The day had been such an incredible one, with its succession of excitements and almost unreal pleasures, that they had actually forgotten that the night must come. They were young enough for that indiscretion, and when they sat down and began to realize how tired they were, they also began to realize a number of other things.
A little silence fell upon them. Ben’s head began to droop slightly upon his shoulder, and John Holt’s quick eye saw it.
“Have you had a good day?” he asked.
“Rob,” said Meg, “when we sat in the Straw Parlor and talked about the City Beautiful, and the people who would come to it—when we thought we could never see it ourselves—did we ever dream that anybody—even if they were kings and queens—could have such a day?”
“Never,” answered Robin; “never! We didn’t know such a day was in the world.”
“That’s right,” said John Holt. “I’m glad it’s seemed as good as that. Now, where did you think of spending the night?”