Meg looked at him with large and solemn eyes.
“Well,” she said, “it’s a fairy story, and it’s getting fairyer and fairyer every minute.”
She leaned forward, with her heart quite throbbing. Because it was he who did this splendid thing—he to whom all things seemed possible—it actually seemed a thing to be accepted as if a magician had done it.
“Oh, how good you are to us!” she said. “How good, and how good! And what is the use of saying only ‘Thank you?’ I should not be surprised,” with a touch of awe, “if you took us to a hotel built of gold.”
How heartily John Holt laughed then.
“Well, some of them ought to be, by the time this thing’s over,” he said. “But the lights will soon be out; the people are going, and Ben’s nearly dead. Let’s go and find a carriage.”
XVIII
Yes, they went home in a carriage! John Holt put them into it, and settled back into it himself, as if comfortable cushions were only what belonged to tired people. And he took them to one of the hotels whose brilliantly-lighted fronts they had trudged wearily by the night before. And they had a good supper and warm baths and delicious beds, and Meg went to sleep with actual tears of wonder and gratitude on her lashes, and they all three slept the sleep of Eden and dreamed the dreams of Paradise. And in the morning they had breakfast with John Holt, in the hotel dining-room, and a breakfast as good as the princely dinner he had given them; and after it they all went back with him to the City Beautiful, and the fairy story began again. For near the entrance where they went in they actually found Ben’s mother, in a state of wonder beyond words; for, by the use of some magic messenger, that wonderful John Holt had sent word to her that Ben was in safe hands, and that she must come and join him, and the money to make this possible had been in the letter.
Poor, tired, discouraged, down-trodden woman, how she lost her breath when Ben threw himself upon her and poured forth his story! And what a face she wore through all that followed! How Ben led her from triumph to triumph, with the exultant air of one to whom the City Beautiful almost belonged, and who, consequently, had it to bestow as a rich gift on those who did not know it as he did. What wondering glances his mother kept casting on his face, which had grown younger with each hour! She had never seen him look like this before. And what glances she cast aside at John Holt! This was one of the rich men poor people heard of. She had never been near one of them. She had, often, rather hated them.
Before the day was over Robin and Meg realized that this wonder was to go on as long as there was anything of the City Beautiful they had not seen. They were to drink deep draughts of delight as long as they were thirsty for more. John Holt made this plain to them in his blunt, humorous way. He was going to show them everything and share all their pleasures, and they were to stay at the golden hotel every night.