After dinner that night, Anne said: “I think Polly ought to see a sight that no other city can offer—that is the wondrous advertising signs on Broadway about Times Square, at night.”
“I am too weary to go out, daughter, but you take the girls,” Mrs. Stewart remarked, so they hurriedly donned their hats and gloves.
When they reached the famous corner of Forty-second street and Broadway, and stood at the uptown side of Times Square Triangle to look at the lights, Polly was speechless.
“Why, it’s as bright as day, everywhere,” whispered she.
“And just see the moving ads. up on the roofs!” cried Eleanor, delighting in the scene.
“I thought there were hordes of mad folks on the streets this afternoon, but this beats everything!” exclaimed Polly, watching both sides of Broadway from her vantage ground. “Honestly, Anne, do they not act obsessed, jostling and rushing as if Death drove them? They never seem to mind trolleys, autos, or policemen. They swirl and fly every which way, regardless of everyone and everything.”
“I just love this excitement!” sighed Eleanor, smiling.
“Well, I hope to goodness we will live far enough away from all this to let me forget it once in a while,” said Polly.
“Oh, you’ll love it, too, pretty soon,” Eleanor said, confidently.
“Never! This is Bedlam to me. When I write home about it, I shall tell father that it reminds me of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah when fire and brimstone fell and destroyed those cities. I bet the folks never acted any wilder, there, than these New Yorkers do, here.”