They turned into the arched entrance of a big, brick building and elbowed through the crowd toward a large room indicated by the guides. Once inside, Mrs. Coyle drew a quick breath of pleased astonishment. Long tables down the centre of the room were covered with linen squares of familiar patterns. There were also rugs and draperies, and innumerable articles of unique home workmanship. The walls were hung with “kiverlids” and quilts of brilliant patterns. The Rising Sun, Indian Feather, Fruit Basket, and many others showed to the best advantage in the well-lighted place. Sam Coyle found his way to a table covered with splint baskets. “Look here,” he said, beckoning to Talitha and pointing to the price-mark on a medium sized one. “Seventy-five cents is a heap of money fer thet; I reckon they won’t sell nary a one.” But Sam Coyle reckoned in vain, for Talitha showed him the little tag marked “Sold” tied to the opposite side of the handle; her eyes sparkling at his look of amazement. “I used ter make toler’ble fair ones myself, years back,” he said, examining it carefully. Mrs. Gooch dropped into a splint-bottomed rocker in front of a gorgeous red and green quilt. She was studying the price-mark and the pattern. Ten dollars seemed an immense amount of money to pay for it. She beckoned to Mrs. Coyle, who was fingering the linen. “What d’ye think o’ thet?” she asked. Her neighbour stepped back slowly, viewing the quilt from all points of vantage. “Yourn is a heap purtier, but this hez more fine stitches,” she remarked at last judicially. “Mebbe hit hez, but hit tuk more fine pieces fer ourn, an’ I’d be proud ter git half as much.” Mrs. Gooch was thinking of Sudie and Billy, who would soon be ready for Bentville. Here was an unexpected source of revenue. One by one Mrs. Coyle examined the squares of linen with a triumphant feeling. All day her heart had been sinking at the thought of her ignorance. She had been bewildered and overwhelmed by this new world of opportunity and knowledge. Now she experienced a quick return of self-respect as she heard well-dressed visitors exclaim in admiration, and saw the ready sale of the linen. She not only knew the patterns, but had worked out some original designs of her own. Here was surely a way to earn more money. It was fully twenty minutes later when Gincy came panting in without Sudie and Billy. “They’ve found Pete and Isaac,” she announced, “and they’re going to the top of the tower. They’ll meet us somewhere near the Industrial Building. Come on.” It was only a short distance, but every step was blocked by groups of visitors, lemonade stands, amateur photographers, venders of patent medicines. A wrinkled, toothless old woman sat close to the path smoking her pipe. She wore a black calico dress and sunbonnet, and black wool mitts. Gincy drew a long breath and thought, for the first time in her life, what it meant to grow old like that.