“Mr. Douglass,” said Philip, “I really think we’d rather go alone, if you don’t mind.” “Very well,” the tutor replied; “I shall probably stay in this building, too, but it is not likely we shall meet. At about half-past one come over to the bridge that leads to the lower end of the wooded island, and I’ll take you to lunch. Au revoir!”
“Auf Wiedersehen!” Harry replied; and turning to Philip he said warmly, “Mr. Douglass is a good fellow,—there’s no ‘Uncle George and Rollo’ about him.”
“I think he’s right, too,” said Philip. “If he was to try to tell us about things here, we couldn’t listen if we wanted to: there’s too much to see.”
“Well, he’s having a good time, too,” said Harry. “It’s a good idea to take your tutor to Chicago and improve his mind. Where shall we begin?”
“We’ll go over into the publishers’ corner,” said Philip, pointing to the little map in his guide-book; “and we’ll take the galleries first.”
FROM A WINDOW IN THE MANUFACTURES AND LIBERAL ARTS BUILDING LOOKING NORTHWEST.
They walked toward that end of the building, but could not help seeing some things on their way. One was a group of curved mirrors that gave distorted and very laughable reflections. Another was a fine display of daggers, pins, and other jewelry, inlaid in gold. Harry took a fancy to one bonnet-pin (he thought it was), the top of which was a dainty sword-hilt. He priced it, and left it there: it was twelve dollars. The boys saw a placard upon one tiny dagger saying it was sold to Miss Blank, and they wondered whether she bought it for a paper-knife, or intended to become a vivandière.
THE ARTS OF WAR.
A MURAL PAINTING IN ONE OF THE PORCHES OF THE MANUFACTURES AND LIBERAL ARTS BUILDING.