"It depends entirely on how young they behave, and Dicky's no baby."
"Then if you think they'll accept him suppose you take him to the Club and enroll him."
So Dicky marched bravely in among the hundreds of boys who help to make lively the southern part of the Assembly Grounds, and was duly registered as a member of the Boys' Club. If his rompers seemed to give him a too youthful air at one end the blue sweater adorned with the Boys' Club monogram which he insisted on donning at once, evened up his status. For a day or two Roger had happened in at the Club to see whether the little chap was holding his own and he had been so satisfied with what he saw that he no longer felt it necessary to exercise a daily watchfulness. Dicky came and went all over the grounds now, and often enlightened his elders about some locality of which they were not certain.
When the sun rises on the day that is to end with the Old First Night celebration there is always a suppressed excitement in Chautauqua. The young men of the Daily are listening to the Managing Editor's assignment of their extra duties in reporting the evening festivities; the boys who are to collect the money from the audience in the Amphitheatre and the men to whom they are to deliver it are receiving from the Usher-in-Chief their instructions as to their respective positions and duties; messengers rush their bicycles over the ground delivering notes of invitation to the people who are to sit on the platform.
In the homes the heads of the families are deciding how much they can afford to give to the Old First Night Fund and the other members down to the small children are examining their pocket books and shaking the pennies out of their banks so that every one may have a share, no matter how small, in the gift of Chautauquans to Chautauqua.
The Morton-Emerson household had had its share of the morning excitement and Mrs. Morton and her father were climbing up the hill, she to go to the Women's Club and he to occupy his usual stool at the Arts and Crafts Studios. At almost every step they nodded pleasantly to acquaintances, for they had many friends, some made before the fire, and others drawn to them by the spirit of helpfulness that makes Chautauquans run to the rescue of distress wherever they find it.
As they reached the hilltop and crossed the street to enter the Post Office for the morning mail their ears were saluted by the customary morning sounds. The ice cream booth and the bakery in the pergola were being replenished from heavy kegs and boxes which were in process of being unloaded from carts on to the ground before their destinations. Crowds of people on their way to classes and clubs were opening letters and calling out home news to other members of their families or slitting the wrappers from newspapers and shaking out the front page to come at the war news quickly.
Shrill cries of "Chautauquan Daily" rose on every side as boy venders of the local paper pressed among the people, for they did their best business in the early hours. People who would not take the time to stop and examine the program for the day posted in the tree boxes would read it in the paper as they hurried on to ensure punctuality at their classrooms.
"It really seems as if there was an extra hum in the air," laughed Mrs. Morton.
"I think there is," returned her father drily. His eyes were fastened on a figure approaching them.