hat. She waved a hand to the faithful Gilda Hanan. “Tell any one who inquires for me that I’ve felt the call of spring. And if the boy comes for that clay pack picture tell him to-morrow was the day.”
They were down the stairs and off in the powerful car that seemed to be at the visitors’ disposal. Through the Loop, up Michigan Avenue, into the south side. Chicago, often lowering and gray in April, was wearing gold and blue to-day. The air was sharp but beneath the brusqueness of it was a gentle promise. Dallas and Pool were very much absorbed in Paris plans, Paris reminiscences. “And do you remember the time we. . . only seven francs among the lot of us and the dinner was. . . you're surely coming over in June, then . . . oils . . . you've got the thing, I tell you. . . you'll be great, Dallas. . . remember what Vibray said . . . Study. . . work . . .”
Dirk was wretched. He pointed out objects of interest to General Goguet. Sixty miles of boulevard. Park system. Finest in the country. Grand Boulevard. Drexel Boulevard. Jackson Park. Illinois Central trains. Terrible, yes, but they were electrifying. Going to make ’em run by electricity, you know. Things wouldn’t look so dirty, after that. Halsted Street. Longest street in the world.
And, “Ah, yes,” said the General, politely. “Ah, yes. Quite so. Most interesting.”
The rich black loam of High Prairie. A hint of
