"Everything is so far off!" she exclaimed.
"Here's the hotel—the Hotel Athenæum," and James nodded toward a large building with a tower and with a veranda on which guests were sitting looking out upon the lake.
"The band concerts are right here all summer. The band plays up on the hotel piazza and the people walk around below here and sit on the grass. It looks pretty when the girls have on pretty dresses."
"Are there lots of girls here?" asked Helen.
"About five million," returned James cheerfully. "I've got a sister who's going over to call on you as soon as she sees you on your porch. That's the only way people can make calls here. Everybody's out all the time going to lectures and classes so you have to catch them when you see them."
"You're neighbors so we'll see her right off," said Helen hopefully. "What's this building?"
"This is the Arcade. There are some shops in it and doctors and things. The women all learn to embroider here—see, round this corner on the piazza is where the teacher stays. Mother goes there all the time, and my married sister. You know they joke at Chautauqua women for embroidering right through lectures and concerts. Somebody wrote some rhymes about it once."
"Let's have them."
"I never fail to oblige when I'm asked for them. Listen. It's dedicated 'To the Wool-Gatherers.'
"I don't go out on Sundays
At Chautauqua, for you see
To just set still and listen,
Are the hardest things that be.
"At 'Devotional' 'tis different,
There my crochet-work I take,
The one-two-three, skip-two, do-one,
Just keeps me wide awake.
"I haint heard much the preacher said
To-day,—I dropped a stitch—
But 'twas splendid, and I think
'Twas on the duties of the rich.
"With lectures, sermons, concerts,
And all such things as that,
'Tis nice to think they culture me
While I set there and tat.
"All hail to old Chautauqua,
I'll carry off this year,
Some thirty yards of edging,
To prove that I was here."