“Would that have any bearing on the presence of Dorothy here?” asks Wycherley, stopping to light his pipe at the gas jet of a tobacconist, and nodding familiarly to the Greek in charge.
“It might. She told me her mission was a sacred one, and what could be more in keeping with such a word than the search of a child for her mother? However, we may be meddling with what does not concern us, though fortune has apparently decreed that I should be interested in the fortunes of Dorothy Cereal, judging from our several peculiar meetings. Have you any other plans for to-night, comrade?”
“I never leave here until closing time. Can’t explain it, but there’s a charm about this same old Midway that is life to me. You know my nature, Craig, and it just chimes with such a kaleidoscopic scene as this, color, music, and laughter—not a tear or a frown. Heigho! when the curtain rings down and the bugle sounds 'lights out,’ I shall have to seek consolation in making love to that black-eyed Spanish cigar girl, or emigrate with all these Turks, Arabs, and Moors.”
CHAPTER VIII.
A BACHELOR PROTECTORATE.
Craig has himself seen enough of the daily life along the Midway to feel some sympathy for his companion, whose doleful refrain has at least the merit of sincerity.
The popularity of the Midway was something of a joke during the life of the Fair, but never questioned. It is since the close of the great Exposition that the people of this country have gradually awakened to the fact that as a congress of nations, this Plaisance was the most successful thing ever planned and executed.
Everyone has pleasant memories of hours spent in strolling up and down, of queer sights witnessed, and, perhaps, singular adventures in connection with these people from the four quarters of the earth.
In every prominent city of the land these memories have been kept alive by a series of entertainments, representing the Midway in the height of its glory; breezy items can be found in the papers, describing the wonders of the world’s highway, and many snatches of glowing rhetoric attest to the pleasure derived by the writer in the scenes on the Plaisance. In defense of Wycherley, who haunted these scenes until he loved them as a Parisian is devoted to his city, it may not be out of place to reproduce one of these items which appeared recently in a prominent Western paper: