"The Florentines of that day," pursued his sister-in-law, "didn't know so very much, perhaps, but they were bound to learn, and that was the main thing. And it's just so here."
"Quite right," said Fairchild; "we know what there is to learn, and we are determined to master it. Our Constantinoples are Berlin and London and the rest—yes, Boston, too; and all their learned exiles are flocking here to instruct us."
"And the books that are coming in!" cried Jessie Ogden. She was no great reader, and she spoke less as a student than as a Chicagoan—that is, she spoke more ardently than any student could have spoken. "Does the enemy know that four of the biggest buildings in this big city are built of books?"
"The new libraries," her husband explained—"the ones that are going to make us the literary centre."
"Dear me," said Winthrop, "are you expecting that?"
"And we expect to be the financial centre, and presently the political centre, too—Chicago, plus New York and Washington."
"And where is Boston?"
"A little behind," said Fairchild. "New York is the main-mast yet; Chicago ranks as foremast—at present; while Boston is—"
"The mizzen-mast," completed Ogden.
"And we Chicago folks stand at the bow," chimed in his wife, "and sniff the first freshness of the breeze."