The days after the beach party seemed to fly past on wings. First it was a Monday and then, before a person could do half the nice things planned, Saturday was coming ’round again and Alice was home all day from school and fun for the four Merrills could be planned. Mrs. Merrill and Mary Jane took to doing all their “Saturday marketing” on Friday afternoon so they could have more time on Saturday for trips and sight-seeing and all the lovely things folks like to do when they’ve just moved to a big city.

One Saturday morning, not so very long after the beach party, dawned—not bright and warm and sunny as Mary Jane had hoped it surely would—but rainy and cold and windy as some May mornings are sure to be in Chicago. A cold northeast wind raced across the city and folks had blue noses and shivery finger tips and not a single thing to be seen looked like spring.

“Now just look at it!” exclaimed Mary Jane as she stared out of the living-room window, “and we were going to take a trip through the parks and I was going to wear my new hat and everything. And look!”

“And we can’t go to the parks again for another whole week!” bemoaned Alice, “’cause there’s school!”

“Just look!” exclaimed Mary Jane again as a hard gust of wind tossed the rain against the winds exactly as though Mr. Rain was saying to Mary Jane, “Thought you’d go out, did you? Well, look what I’m doing!”

“You girls talk as though parks were the only things to see in Chicago,” said Mrs. Merrill as pleasantly and comfortably as though there was no such thing as a disappointment in the world.

Alice and Mary Jane turned away from the window quickly. Something in their mother’s tone of voice made them suspect that the day wasn’t to be a disappointment after all.

“It’s funny to me,” continued Mrs. Merrill in a matter of fact voice, “that you folks haven’t asked to go to the big stores—wouldn’t you like to?”

“Like to!” exclaimed Alice.

“Would we?” cried Mary Jane. “But we didn’t think about it!”

“Then we’ll think about it now,” replied Mrs. Merrill. “If you can hold an umbrella down tight over your head so as not to get your hat wet, I think we could manage to get to the train without getting soaked. And once down at the store, we could check our wet umbrellas and shop and sight-see through the stores all we wished to without a bit of hurry.”

“Oh, may we really go?” asked Alice.

“Well,” answered Mrs. Merrill, pretending to hesitate, “if you really care to—”

That settled it and there was no more time wasted talking about weather that morning. Dishes were washed and beds were made and dusting was done so quickly that the little flat must have been quite surprised and pleased with itself—it got put into rights so very quickly. Then Mary Jane got her hair fixed nicely and a pretty hair bow put on—the bow wouldn’t show very much under the new hat, but even that little had to be just right—and then, while mother fixed her own and Alice’s hair, she put on a pretty dress—not a party dress, of course, but a nice, pretty, dark dress. Then they all put on rubbers and raincoats and locked up the doors and took their umbrellas and started for the train.

Going down town on the train was fun. In the city where Mary Jane lived before, one could walk down town. Or if one really wanted to ride, a street car hustled one to the stores in about five minutes. But in Chicago, so she discovered, she had to have a ticket and go through a gate, and up stairs and onto a platform and aboard a train and everything just as though one intended to go away, far off. The girls both liked to ride down town. To be sure they couldn’t see much of the lake, even though they did ride right along beside it, because the rain made it all look dim and gray and foggy. But they knew the lake was there; they could see the spray the waves made and once in a while they could hear the noise of splashing water above the roar of the train. All too soon, for there was so much to see, the train pulled into their station and the conductor shouted, “Randolph Street! Everybody out! Far’s we go!” And all the folks aboard got their umbrellas ready and went out into the rain.

Fortunately it was only a very little way from the station to the big store where Mrs. Merrill took the girls, so they didn’t have a chance to get tired or very wet. And as soon as they got indoors, Mrs. Merrill found a checking place and they left wet umbrellas and wet raincoats and wet rubbers and started out for fun.

“I think that’s awfully convenient—just to leave things that way,” said Alice as she settled her collars and cuffs and made sure she was tidy, “and of course we’ll get them back safely?” This checking system was new to her and she wanted to be assured it was all right.

“To be sure we will,” said Mrs. Merrill. “See? I have the checks for them.”

“Well, then,” said Mary Jane, “let’s begin.”

“Yes,” said Alice, “let’s. And let’s see everything!”

“All right,” laughed Mrs. Merrill; “shall we take an elevator first?”

“Oh, no,” answered Alice, “’cause then we’d miss the first floor.”

So they “did” the first floor, seeing all the handkerchiefs and jewelry and bags and fans and pretty decorations and ribbons—Alice could hardly leave those lovely ribbons—and neckwear—Mary Jane saw five different neckties she needed—and so many things.

“Do they have anything left for the second floor?” asked Mary Jane when they finally got around to where they had started.

“You just see,” said Mrs. Merrill.

And sure enough there were plenty of things on the second floor, pretty dishes and lamps and so many things that, really, Mary Jane almost got tired looking at them all.

By the time they got ready for the third floor, Mary Jane was wondering if there were any seats in that store. Not seats where you sit down to buy things, but really seats where you just sit down whether you buy anything or not. And sure enough there were just those seats. Nice, big comfy ones, that appeared to be made for Mary Janes who went a-shopping and wanted to sit down. The Merrills sat down on a big couch and Mary Jane leaned back ready to rest when—who should she see right in front of her but Frances Westland! The girl she met at grandmother’s house nearly a year ago.

In a jiffy Mary Jane forgot all about wanting to sit down. She slid down from the comfortable couch, dashed after Frances, who, not guessing that a friend was so near, was hurrying by, and brought her back to meet mother and Alice.

Then they all sat down for a visit.

“No, I’m not living here,” said Frances in answer to Mrs. Merrill’s question, “I’ve been spending the spring with my auntie and going to school here. But just as soon as school is out I’m going back home. Mother needs me.”

“I don’t doubt it,” replied Mrs. Merrill, who was much pleased with the little girl, “I’m sure your mother misses you greatly. But where are you living and can’t we see you before you go and can’t you take lunch with us to-day?”

It seemed that Frances’s auntie lived in the same part of the city the Merrills lived in and there was every reason to believe that the girls might see each other at least once or twice in the little time left of the school year.

“But I don’t believe I can eat lunch with you,” added Frances, “’cause auntie and I have to hurry home.” So with a promise to come to see them soon at the address Mrs. Merrill wrote out on her card for Frances, the friends said good-by.

“I’ll declare!” exclaimed Mrs. Merrill, looking at her watch after Frances left them. “It’s almost twelve o’clock already! And we were to meet father at one. If you girls want to see anything of the toys and dolls and playrooms, we’d better not be sitting around here any longer.”

Of course the girls did want to see the toys and dolls and everything. When they got to the fourth floor where all the children’s things were kept, they were sorry they had spent even a minute any place else. For all the lovely dolls and marvelous toys and enticing games and beautiful pictures and fascinating puzzles made a person think that Santa Claus’s shop and fairyland and magic were all mixed up together and set down in one place. The girls looked and looked and looked. They “oh-ed” and “ah-ed” and exclaimed till they couldn’t think of anything more to say—and then they kept right on looking just the same.

Mary Jane picked out the doll coat she wanted Georgiannamore to have and Alice selected a lovely desk. They agreed upon a set of dishes and upon charming furniture for their balcony—just the right size too.

“And we’ll pretend we’ll buy it all, mother,” said Mary Jane, who knew perfectly well she couldn’t buy all the things she talked about getting, “and we’ll pretend we’ll have it all sent up, that’ll be such fun.”

So they pretended and looked and looked and pretended till they had been over most all that part of the store.

“Now then,” said Mrs. Merrill, “if we’re to meet Dadah for lunch—”

“Oh, goody!” cried Alice, “are we to meet him here?”

“Not here,” said Mrs. Merrill, “but in this store in the lunch room and in ten minutes. So we’d better wash our hands and go to the lunch room floor.”

Mr. Merrill was waiting for them and had a table engaged close by a charming fountain (“Just think of a fountain in a house!” exclaimed Mary Jane when she spied it) and all the time Mary Jane sat there eating, she could look right over and watch the fishes and she could hear the splash of the water.

But Mary Jane wasn’t thinking of fishes or water just then. She was hungry. And the things her father read to her sounded so good—oh, dear, but they did sound good! She and Alice had a dreadfully hard time deciding just what did sound the best. But Alice finally decided on stuffed chicken legs (she hadn’t an idea what they were but they sounded good) and potato salad and strawberry parfait. And Mary Jane chose chicken pie—a whole one all her own—and hashed brown potatoes and orange sherbet.

While the lunch was being fixed, Mr. Merrill took Mary Jane over to the window so she could look down, down, way down, to the street below, where the folks appeared so little and upside down and where the automobiles looked like the ones they had just seen in the toy department.

When the lunch came, it proved to be just as good as the menu promised it would be and the girls enjoyed every bite. Mary Jane was afraid for a minute that she had made a mistake. For Alice’s parfait came in a tall glass, with a long spoon that made the girls think of the story of the fox and the goose and the banquet, and Mary Jane was sure nothing she had ordered could be as nice as parfait. But when the maid set the orange sherbet at her place, Mary Jane was quite satisfied, for the ice was set in a real orange, all cut out in dainty scallops and trimmed with green.

“Yummy-um!” she whispered, happily. “I’m so glad you had this party, Dadah!”

Dadah seemed to want everything to be all right, for he had added to their order some little cakes, done up in frilly papers and unlike anything the girls had ever seen. They almost hated to eat them, they were so pretty, but cakes one cannot eat are not good for much, Mr. Merrill reminded them, and so the cakes were eaten up.

“Now then,” said Mary Jane, as she dabbled her fingers in the finger bowl and ate up the candy she found at the side of the tiny tray, “what do we do next?”