“Well, momma, here we are in New York at last. Here we are, daughter. You got your wish.”
Kedzie nearly broke his neck with her hug, and called him the best father that ever was. And she meant it at the moment, for the moment.
Mrs. Thropp was already making herself at home, loosening her waistband and her corset-laces.
Adna made himself at home, too—that is, he took off his coat and collar and shoes. But Kedzie could not waste her time on comfort while there was so much ecstasy to be had.
She went to the window, shoved the sash high, and—discovered New York. She greeted it with an outcry of wonder. She called to her mother and father to “Come here and looky!”
Her mother moaned, “I wouldn't come that far to look at New Jerusalem.”
Adna yawned noisily and pulled out his watch. His very eyes yawned at it, and he said: “'Levum o'clock. Good Lord! Git to bed quick!”
Kedzie was furious at ending the day so abruptly. She wanted to go out for a walk, and they sent her to her room. She watched at the window as she peeled off her coarse garments and put her soft body into a rough nightgown as ill-cut and shapeless as she was neither. She had been turned by a master's lathe.
She waited till she heard her father's well-known snore seesawing through the panels. Then she went to the window again to gaze her fill at the town. She fell in love with it and told it so. She vowed that she would never leave it. She had not come to a strange city; she had just reached home.
She leaned far out across the ledge to look down at the tremendously inferior street. She nearly pitched head foremost and scrambled back, but with a giggle of bliss at the excitement. She stared at the dark buildings of various heights before her. There was something awe-inspiring about them.