THE WINDMILLS.
There was no answer. Philip turned to look at Harry more closely, and found that the tired boy had fallen fast asleep.
“It’s all right for him to go to sleep,” said Philip to himself, “but I wish he’d say so when he does it; then I’d know when to stop.”
Harry awoke in time for dinner. Mr. Douglass had mailed a number of letters, and he and the boys went to the table together. They found that their walks had given them the best of appetites, and they enjoyed seeing the people at the various tables around them. Mr. Douglass spoke of the excellent appearance made by the crowds, and of their good-humor.
“I was in the Fair Grounds for a short time this afternoon,” he said, “and I found myself noticing the people quite as much as the curious things around me. If one ran against another, there was never any ill-humor or crossness. Usually both apologized politely. And yet in many places the crowds were enormous. Again and again I would look ahead of me, and think that I couldn’t get through the throng.”
THE WOODED ISLAND AT TWILIGHT.
“I noticed that, too,” said Philip; “but the spaces are big and the people keep moving, so somehow one always finds a place to pass.”
“I tell you what I liked,” said Harry; “and that was the little drinking-fountains, where you drop a penny and get a glass of spring water. I found them very welcome.”