"Ha, ha! Cupid!" laughed Mr. Emerson.
The dog's master held a leash fastened to his harness and the strong creature tugged him along so fast that he almost had to run to keep up.
"You see 'everybody works' at Chautauqua, even the dogs."
"And I must say they all seem to like it, even Cupid," added Mr. Emerson.
Turning away from the lake they walked up the hill to a grove behind which rose the walls of a hall and of several school buildings.
"Over to the right is the Hall of Pedagogy where your affectionate grandson wields the broom and smears the dustrag, and the building beyond is the College. They aren't especially handsome either inside or out but they are as busy as beehives. Listen to that hum? I tell you they just naturally hustle for culture up at this end of the grounds!"
"What's this we're coming out on?"
"The Arts and Crafts Studios. Not bad, are they? Sort of California Mission effect with those low white pillars. This place beats the others in the busy bee business. They hum in the mornings but the Arts and Crafts people are at it all day long. Come along and look in; they keep the windows open on purpose."
Nothing loath, Mr. Emerson went up the ascending path and on to the brick walk behind the pillars. First they peered into a room devoted to the making of lace, but neither of them felt drawn to this essentially feminine occupation. Then they passed drawing and painting studios where teachers of drawing and painting were taught how to teach better. In a hall in the centre they found a blackboard drawing that was as well done as many a painting, but Mr. Emerson's interest began really to grow when they came to the next departments. Here they found looms, some of them old-fashioned and some of them new, but all worked by hand and foot power. Several young women and two men were threading them or weaving new patterns. It looked difficult yet fascinating. Beyond there was a detachment learning how to put rush bottoms into chairs, twisting wet cat-tail leaves and wrapping them about the edges of frames.
"Look, they're just like the chairs in your dining-room," whispered Roger. "I've half a mind to learn how to do it so that I can mend them for Grandmother."