When the check was presented Mrs. O’Brien noted that the whiskey was not charged for. But the waiter stood there with his hand resting on the table, three fingers pointed ceilingward—“Three dollars extra for the substantials.”
The bill paid and the waiter gone, pleased with a generous tip, the two strolled about in the lobby.
After a few minutes wait Mr. O’Brien put in appearance.
Soon the three were seated in the Benz he had brought with him from Europe, and after taking Sana to see the State Capitol, they went spinning over the roads towards their lodge in the Catskill forests.
The mountain life did Sana a world of good. Mrs. O’Brien loved the outdoor life and would give Sana no rest. She would rout her out of bed early in the morning and the two would go for a tramp across hill and valley. Then again there would be a tennis game to be played, or a ride on horseback that could be put off no longer. Sana rode well, in fact her riding was the envy of all who saw her. Many a long ride was had over the picturesque mountain roads—down old Rip Van Winkle’s trail—down through the wonderfully beautiful Kaaterskill Canyon, or over to Haines Falls, Tannersville and Prattsville, formerly the center of America’s tanning industry, and where today there stands a monument, just outside the village, dedicated to Pratt, the founder, in the form of a statue cut out of the living rock.
So employed, the remaining summer days went all too fast for Sana, and the cold mountain days drew on. But with their coming returned all Sana’s youthful vigor and charm. Her face glowed with the wine of life and her eyes sparkled like winter stars.
Before returning to New York the O’Briens took Sana to see Niagara Falls. “The greatest sight in the world,” chortled Mr. O’Brien, “and it’s American.” And Sana agreed with him.
Sana spent the winter with Mrs. O’Brien, a winter that sped quickly, broken up as it was with trips to Boston, Washington, Cleveland, Chicago and other American cities, as well as a protracted stay at Atlantic City—the year round pleasure resort. In this way Sana came to know America better than most Americans do in a lifetime.
With the spring came a desire to return to Paris. Her friends did what they could to dissuade her, but to no avail. So reluctantly they consented.
Mr. O’Brien insisted that the day before sailing be spent at Coney Island. Sana must see it, he told Mrs. O’Brien when she frowned down the suggestion. She knew that he was just as anxious for himself as for Sana, but she at last consented—thankful, in her heart, that he had made the suggestion, because it was years since she had been there and though she would not admit it, it was only her “state of mind” that kept her from going there before. But of course, he mustn’t know just how she felt about it.