"What about the punch?"
"Everybody's ticket is punched on an odd number when you come in and on an even one when you go out. Your last punch was on an even number, when you went out this afternoon. What are you going to do when you want to go out again?"
Ethel Brown stared at Ethel Blue in dismay, and Ethel Blue's eyes began to fill with tears.
"It will be perfectly clear to the gateman that you came in in some improper way."
Mrs. Morton went into the dining-room to take a last look at the table and the Ethels went upstairs to dress. Somehow the fun of their adventure had faded away. In its place was a growing discomfort that was increasingly painful. They did not discuss their trouble and they put on clean dresses without their usual pleasure in their freshness and prettiness. Mrs. Morton did not allude to the subject again, and that gave the children additional feelings of uneasiness, for they felt that she was leaving the decision as to their future action entirely to them.
Roger, who was to pass a basket at the Amphitheatre, hurried through his supper and whooped to James as he passed the Hancocks' house. The other members of the two families went later and more slowly, enjoying as they walked along the lake front the familiar tunes that the chimes were ringing out. As they climbed the hill they were sorry that they had not made an earlier start, for people were gathering in flocks and the organ was already playing. Once more they had to say, "This is the largest audience yet." This time it was remarkable for its number of old people, for it seemed as if everybody who ever had been at Chautauqua made a point of returning to join in the celebration of the Fortieth Anniversary.
The service arranged by Bishop Vincent for the opening night was used for the forty-first time, and tears ran down the cheeks of old men and women who recalled the passing of the intervening years and gave their memento of esteem to the Chautauquans of bygone days when they joined the rest of the huge audience in lifting their handkerchiefs in a drooping salute to the dead.
The Chancellor introduced the President, and he, after a few words of historical reminiscence, introduced the speakers of the evening, a dozen of them, who spoke briefly and told some good stories. Between their speeches were sandwiched the events that make Old First Night different from any other night in the Amphitheatre. The members of the family of Mr. Miller, one of the founders of the Institution, were honored by a waving Chautauqua salute, invented long ago for a deaf speaker and continued because of its beauty. Mrs. Thomas Edison, a daughter of Mr. Miller, thanked the audience for its tribute to her father and called for a similar salute to the Vincent family.
"There's Miss Kimball standing with two other ladies to be saluted," cried Ethel Brown.
"And there's the president of the Women's Club with her," said Mrs. Morton.