The girl gave the slightest toss of her head. "I suppose the Eastern people think we enjoy the prospect of being jostled, and crowded, and having our streets torn up and our city extended, and all our comfort taken away for two years while we live in a perfect Pandemonium. No. We do not enjoy it, but we do it as our duty because we know that we can and shall do it well. It is not best to trust such an enterprise to an old, slow town." Page regarded the speaker with curiosity and interest. She spoke softly but emphatically in a contralto voice, and did not look at him, but beyond him. It occurred to her companion that with her superb vitality and unconscious audacity she might be a truer type of the triumphant young city than that shown in the cleverly insulting picture which had so tickled his imagination. "I see you take a strong interest in the matter," he remarked. "Yes. My sister’s husband has been busy about it from the first; so I have heard much concerning the subject; but then all Chicagoans are interested. It is their way." The evident pride with which the girl referred to this "way" caused Page to declare meekly, as a means of raising himself in her estimation, that he had relatives in Chicago. "That will be very pleasant for you in ’93," she returned, with a slight smile which made her face bewitching. "I have been spending the last year with a Chicago cousin in Germany," continued Page. "He has taken a warm interest in every phase of the discussion." "Naturally," returned the girl; then having relieved her surcharged heart she apparently recollected that she was prolonging an interview with a strange man, and leaning back in her seat she took a copy of "Life" from her satchel. Fine streaks of sunshine sifted across the sheet. "Won’t you accept that shady seat?" asked Page. "Thank you, no. I am only going as far as R——-." "That is my destination, too. You might as well be comfortable." The girl looked up again with some interest. "Are you going to R——-? Then I shall ask you to be kind enough to direct me to the Ocean House. I am afraid that there has been a misunderstanding, and that Mrs. Page—that the friend whom I am going to visit does not expect me this morning." The young man regarded her with a new expectancy. "I am going to the Ocean House also, and, by another coincidence, to see a Mrs. Page. She is my sister." His neighbor returned his gaze at first with surprise, then a demure spirit of mischief danced in her eyes. It had a brief struggle with cautious propriety, but it conquered. Caution usually did make a losing fight in the case of this young lady. "I wonder if you can be Gorham," she said slowly, and Page flushed to his temples under the fascination of his own name. "I am," he laughed. "I know a lot about you," declared the girl quietly, and her companion thought the dip in her upper lip when she smiled the prettiest thing he had ever seen.