“Nonsense!” She got a grip on herself. “That could not happen. This is one of the marvels created by our American engineers. They figure and figure for days and days. Then they set mill wheels revolving, turning out steel. They send steel workers to their tasks, and here we are. Nothing could go wrong. It’s all been figured out.”
Having settled this problem to her own satisfaction, she walked to the rail and began studying the city she had learned to love.
“It looks so strange!” she told herself. And so it did. Streets were steel-gray ribbons where automobiles, mere bugs all black, blue and yellow, crept along, blinking their fiery eyes.
Her eye was caught by twinkling lights atop a skyscraper.
Drawing forth her binoculars she focussed them upon that spot. Then she laughed. Atop that skyscraper was a home, a pent house, a gorgeous affair that shone like marble. About it, all gay with flowers, was a garden.
“A garden party,” she whispered, as if afraid they might hear. “That’s the reason for the strings of lights.”
She could see graceful women in gorgeous gowns with men all in white and black evening dress swaying to the rhythm of some entrancing music.
“They are rich,” she thought to herself. “Bankers, perhaps, or managers of great corporations. Members of Society spelled with a big S. They don’t know I am looking at them.” She turned away again.
“Ah, well!” she sighed. “Even a mouse may look upon a queen. If—”
Had the tower indeed begun to sway in an ominous manner it could not have startled her more than the vision that met her gaze. The little yellow man in the long yellow coat had turned about. She could see his ears now.