Thoughtfully Shirley drew out her little black note-book, in which she was going to keep an account of expense as well as little notes of the trip, to be filled in by herself or Dick when they wrote letters. She was thinking what a fortunate girl she was. Cousin Molly had given her the new pocketbook. Her “lovely” new blue coat and the pretty, becoming hat Aunt Anne had selected, with her approval. Shirley’s eyes rested on the coat hanging beside her. Here came the porter with bags for the hats, and Shirley took off hers, fluffing out her golden locks with a glance at the little long mirror.
Shirley Harcourt had enjoyed very little travel, though a short trip somewhere was not unusual in the summer vacations. But Dr. Harcourt was hampered by a modest income and then he liked to stay around home, working in his library at the writing, reading books which were beyond Shirley’s comprehension, or interest.
Mr. Lytton enjoyed far more means, though the Lyttons, too, had responsibilities which kept them from travel. This was a trip long planned, one which would take almost the entire summer, with the stay that they intended in various places.
Richard Lytton was almost twenty and entering the junior year at the university in the fall. Shirley, who knew him as well as a sister would know a boy, was always deeply interested in such of his doings as he confided to her. She knew the pretty sophomore girls whom he took to the class affairs and the coquettish freshman girl of the year before, who was such a “peach,” but who left school at the close of the freshman year. Shirley wondered if Dick still wrote to her; but like a little lady, Shirley never asked questions. It was fine to have a cousin in the university and she was glad to think that Dick would still be in school when she entered. He could tell her such things as she ought to know, matters which were entirely outside of her father’s knowledge, or so she thought.
But Shirley did not know that the professors, whose minds are supposed to be upon the subjects they teach,—and they are, indeed,—are fully aware of other problems connected with the social relations and the discipline as well as the privileges of the young people in their care. To Shirley, “Dad” was just a “dear dad,” who knew “a lot” and worked “terribly hard” and was always having to see some student about lessons or his private affairs, concerning which the professor was annoyingly secretive.
Mrs. Lytton glanced at Shirley, after Dick had disappeared, but she saw that Shirley was fully occupied. After an approving survey of her pocketbook’s contents, a few scribbles in the new note-book, and a comfortable adjustment of the pillow which had been given her, Shirley was watching the rapidly flying landscape with great interest. Dick would be back when it was time for dinner in the dining car. Then it would grow dark after a while, she would have the new experience of being in a berth in a sleeper, and in the morning they would be in Chicago.
It must be said that Shirley, though keen about the coming thrills of the parks and the Rockies, had anticipated perhaps most eagerly of all seeing this huge and interesting city. It was the biggest thing in its line that she had yet seen, for Shirley’s visit to New York was yet to come.
They took rooms, engaged beforehand by Mr. Lytton, in a modest but very neat and respectable place. Part of the time with Mr. and Mrs. Lytton, part of the time with Dick, part of the time with all three of the Lyttons, Shirley saw Chicago. The banging cars, the conductors, some of them, so foreign that they could scarcely pronounce intelligently the names of the streets; the roar of the elevated trains and the fun of finding how to take them, climbing high above the surface cars and stepping hurriedly off the platform to the car that glided up so quickly; the big sight-seeing ’busses,—everything was new to Shirley.
Dick liked to go around by himself part of the time, but he also enjoyed taking Shirley around when his parents were either tired or preferred some other amusement than that which the young people chose. They would drop in to hear one of the concerts at Lyon and Healy’s, or find a popular eating place that looked attractive in between times. They visited the Art Institute together, and the museum in Grant Park, though that was too much for them. “We’ll have to take that by degrees, Dick,” said Shirley. “I can’t carry so much in my feeble mind at one time. I imagine that Mother and Father will have an awful time taking in so much in a short visit to the foreign galleries.”
“Best way is to pick out what you are interested in for details,” said Dick, “and then take a casual look through at the rest. Let’s go to Lincoln Park this afternoon.”