"Keep fast hold of my hand, Kittyleen," said Miss Pike, "or I shall lose you."
"Where are we going?" asked little Kittyleen, who might have been going up in a balloon for all she knew to the contrary.
"We are trying to go through a door, but you can't see the door, there are so many people ahead of us."
"Well, when we come to the door and get through it, then we shall see the President, sha'n't we?" said Flaxie. "But oh, dear, I don't care so much about him as I did! It takes so long, and the people push so."
By this time, the little party of four were wedged in very tight. They could not move one step, except as they were pushed. Flaxie's crushed-strawberry dress was crushed quite out of sight, and nothing was to be seen of her but two bewildered blue eyes, a tuft of flaxen hair, and—sad to relate—a broken-winged bird of Paradise!
And where was little Kittyleen? By looking down, down, among the ladies' cloaks and skirts, Miss Pike could just espy the top of the little girl's bonnet, and the end of her nose.
"It isn't very comfortable, is it, Kittyleen?" said Miss Pike, pitying, but not knowing how to help her. "No'm, it isn't very com-fi-a-ble," replied the darling, catching her breath.
The crowd had been moving very, very slowly, but now it stopped altogether.
"The people at the front, who got in first, are halting to shake hands with the President," said a man in the crowd; "and we must wait for them to move on."