Around the top of one of the rooms was a strange checkered frieze, which, when closely examined, proved to be thousands of card temperance pledges signed by “children of all the world,” as the inscription told them. Being red and yellow, the cards made a pretty bit of decoration. Also on the second floor were a kindergarten class-room, with specimens of the work upon the walls; and a class-room for “sloyd,” or simple work in wood. But the latter was just then not in use, though there had been classes there not long before.
As they were standing in a corner of the hall, looking at some pictures from children’s magazines, drawn by Reginald Birch, Alfred Brennan, and other favorite illustrators, they heard a little boy say:
“Mama, come this way. I want to see the playthings!”
“No; come on. I must see this room,” his mother answered; at which the boy whined out:
“Oh-h! you won’t let me see a single thing!”
This, if not exaggerated, was certainly a strong statement to be made by a small boy at a World’s Fair. To take a child into the Fair and not to let him see a single thing was not only cruel, but even remarkable. Probably the boy overstated it.
Harry and Philip went up on the roof, but found nothing there, and then went down to the ground floor. Here, at one end, was the place where children were deposited while their parents enjoyed the sights at the Fair. One small boy was weeping bitterly, while his father and mother tried to console him. Philip stopped, and the father of the child said, “We were going to leave him here, but he does not seem to like it”; so one boy was not checked.
The boys would have been glad to see these little ones, but the windows and doors were crowded all the time they were in the building; so they gave up the attempt, and only glancing at the Illinois room, spent their last few minutes in watching the children who had come in to exercise.
THE NURSERY: CHILDREN’S BUILDING.