She smiled and shook her head, as she replied: "He is going to order taxicabs to convey us to the hotel."
"What hotel are we going to?" wondered Martha.
"Well, seeing there are scores of fine hotels in New York, it is difficult to tell which one Mr. Parke will select," said Mrs. Parke.
Shortly after this the party was snugly seated in cabs and whirled away. There was no signboard over the door of the hotel so the children could not tell the name of it. At home, the hotel in the village where the store was, had a swinging sign to say that it was "The Washington Arms Hotel." But the uniformed men standing ready to open the doors, and the crowds of people sitting about reading or chatting were very interesting to the children. Palms, great easy chairs, clusters of electric lights—lights everywhere—made the scene one to be remembered.
"Must be something like the fine balls given Washington after the war," whispered Martha to her companions.
"If they only had on silk dresses and powdered wigs," returned John.
It was late in the afternoon when the party arrived at the hotel. Mr. Parke decided it would be useless to try and see any of the sights that day. Besides, they expected Mr. Davis every moment, as he said he would be waiting for them. But the train had been late, and he probably had become tired of waiting in the hotel lobby.
"I don't see how any one could tire of sitting down there and watching the fine folks," said Martha.
"If you saw things like that every day you'd soon weary of them," remarked Mrs. Davis.
And Martha wondered if Philadelphia were anything like New York, to make aunty speak of seeing such sights every day.