“At the same time I observed that the crowd was rapidly thinning out, and the next moment a Columbian guard came through the rooms, telling the people that it was six o’clock and the building would now be closed.
“My old lady’s watch had been too slow, and I realized with dismay that my friends at the Virginia Building must be very impatient waiting for my return.
“Walking as rapidly as I could to the entrance of the Art Palace, I discovered, to my surprise, that the heavens were pouring out a perfect deluge of rain. It was so dark as to look like twilight. The ground was covered with a miniature river, and the vast crowds of people were moving toward the various gates under a forest of umbrellas.
“Alas! I had lost my own umbrella that morning on coming out, and had rather rejoiced in my ill-fortune, it had proved such a nuisance to carry through the crowds.
“I stood at the top of the broad steps, dismayed at the thought of venturing into that awful downpour in the thin costume I had worn for comfort this warm day. I realized that in less than five minutes I should be soaking wet, and not being very hardy, might probably suffer an attack of illness from the effects.
“Suddenly an ingratiating voice sounded by my side:
“‘Permit me to offer my umbrella, miss.’
“I glanced up into the eager dark eyes of the young man I had seen so often in the building that afternoon.
“I shrank with instinctive dislike, and was about to utter a nervous refusal, and plunge out into the pouring rain, when a loud clap of thunder and a vivid flash of lightning made me draw back in terror so great that I could not speak the words that trembled on my lips.
“‘This is dreadful!’ exclaimed the young man, holding the umbrella carefully over my head to shield me from the storm. ‘You had better draw back out of the rain, miss, and when it holds up I will escort you to the gates and find a carriage for you.’