So they left the hotel to walk to a car.
"Is anything going on in New York to-day?" asked John.
"Not unusual.—Why?" wondered Mrs. Davis.
"Why, I see such a lot of people all running as if they were afraid of missing some big event," explained John.
The elders laughed. "That is the way New Yorkers always rush about. One would think their very lives depended upon the saving of a moment's time. And then they stand and stare at a silly advertisement, or listen to a street-corner peddler trying to sell his wares, and not only lose ten times the moments saved, but block the way for other sensible pedestrians, so that every one loses time," said Mr. Parke, who was escorting the ladies to the car.
At the head of a flight of steps, he started down.
"Where are you going, father?" cried Martha, aghast at her father's going down the cellar steps of some big house.
"To the train! Aren't you coming?"
"Train? I thought we were going to take one of these cars," exclaimed George, looking at a crosstown trolley.
"No, the subway takes us right down to South Ferry, where the boat leaves for Liberty Island," replied Mr. Parke.