“What do we do next?” asked Mr. Merrill, repeating Mary Jane’s question. “I’m sure of this much—we must do something very nice because it’s such a nice day.”

“Nice day!” exclaimed Alice. “What in the world are you talking about, Dadah? This is the worst weather we’ve had since we came to Chicago—but we don’t care ’cause we’re having such a good time anyway.”

Mr. Merrill laughed and replied, “Suppose you look out of the window.”

So they left their cozy table, where nothing but empty dishes told the story of their delightful lunch party, and wandered over to the window where Mary Jane had looked down at the street not much over an hour before. But what a difference! With a sudden, unexpected shift of wind that only the Chicago weather man knows how to bring about, the stiff, cold northeaster that had brought the cold rain of the morning had been sent off and in its place a warm breeze from the south blew softly across the city, bringing with it sunshine and warmth and pleasantness for all.

“Why—” exclaimed Mary Jane, much puzzled, “where’s the rain?”

“Did you want it back?” laughed Mrs. Merrill, and then she explained to the girls something about the effect the big lake might have on weather and told them that one of the queer things about Chicago was its sudden changes to good, or sometimes bad, weather.

“So I was wondering,” said Mr. Merrill, “if you folks wouldn’t like an hour of fresh air and then, if you’re not through shopping we can come back to the stores.”

The girls hadn’t an idea what he might want to do, but they were pretty sure it would be fun. So they agreed that an hour out of doors was just what they most wanted and they went down to get wraps from the check room. They left the umbrellas till later, put on their wraps and left the store.

“Now then,” said Mr. Merrill, “see that big bus down there—we’re going for a ride on the top.”

“What’s a bus?” asked Mary Jane, who had never heard the word before. But before her father could answer they were pushed into the crowd at the crossing, hurried across and the next second Mr. Merrill had hailed a great, lumbering, top-heavy automobile and was helping the girls to step aboard.

The “bus” proved to be a large-sized passenger automobile, with a deck on top for passengers who wished to ride in the open air. Mary Jane and Alice were thrilled with the fun of getting on it. It seemed exactly like going aboard a house-boat on wheels. They stepped into a little hallway and then—and this wasn’t so easy because the bus immediately began to move—they climbed up a curving flight of stairs and walked down an aisle—an awfully wiggly aisle it was too!—to seats on the very front row.

Then, before they had had a chance to look around or feel at home, the conductor, who stood at the back, shouted, “Low bridge!” and everybody ducked their heads while the great bus went under the elevated railroad. Mary Jane felt, truly, as though she must be a person in a story book—Arabian Nights or something marvelous—because surely the things that were happening to her weren’t really happening.

But after the elevated was passed, the bus rolled out onto Michigan Boulevard and Mary Jane settled herself comfortably in her front seat with her mother, smiled across the aisle to Alice and her father and began to feel really at home in her high perch. By the time the bus had turned northward and crossed the river, she began to feel that riding on the top of a bus was the thing she’d been wanting to do all her life. It was such fun to sit up high and watch the lake, so blue and beautiful in the sunshine, the trees just getting a tinge of green at the tips, the pretty houses that lined the parkway, the people—it seemed as everybody in Chicago must be out in their ’tother best clothes—and most of all, it was fun to watch the automobiles dart in and out of the crowd, around the bus and beside it, till Mary Jane was sure their driver must be some wonderful being to be able to manage so that everybody stayed alive!

“Here, Mary Jane,” said Mr. Merrill, interrupting Mary Jane’s sight-seeing, “don’t you want to pay your fare—Alice is paying ours.” He slipped two dimes into her hand just as the conductor stepped to the front of the bus. Mary Jane wasn’t quite sure what she was to do with the dimes till she noticed that the conductor had in his hand a queer-looking thing like a clock, only it had a hole in the top just the right size for a dime. Into that hole Mary Jane dropped a dime. And—“dingding!” went a musical little bell somewhere in the “clock.” Then she dropped the other dime. And again the bell sounded, “dingding!” just as though it tried to say “Thank you!” that way. Alice then dropped her two dimes and Mary Jane had the fun of hearing the bell again. She thought she wouldn’t do a thing but watch the conductor and listen to his bell all the time he collected fares, but just as he stepped back to get the next folks’ money the bus passed in front of the queer old stone building with great tower that Mr. Merrill said was the city water works building, and of course that meant the girls wanted to hear about when it was built and hear again the story Mr. Merrill had started to tell them several evenings before about how the great Chicago fire started and how it burned up to this very spot they were now passing. Somehow, being at that place and seeing the one building that stood through the fire made the history stories seem very plain and there were a lot of questions to be asked and answered.

But buses don’t wait for questions—the girls soon discovered that! Long before the fire story was told they had raced up Lake Shore Drive, passed its beautiful old homes, and were turning into Lincoln Park. Here it seemed to the girls that the city ended and fairyland began. The grass seemed greener, the lake bluer and the trees greener than any place they had seen; and hundreds of tulips peeping up through the ground here, there and everywhere, made spots of bright vivid color and beauty.

“Oh!” exclaimed Mary Jane happily, “I hope the bus goes on and on forever! I’d like to keep on riding all the time!”

But when, a minute or two later, they passed near the buildings of the Zoo, Mary Jane forgot all about wanting to ride forever and wanted to get out, right away quick and see all the animals she had heard lived there.

“Not to-day,” said Mr. Merrill, looking at his watch. “You remember we are to go back to the stores—we’re just out for a bit of fresh air this time. Some other day when it’s still warmer so we can get our dinner here, then we’ll come and visit the Zoo. But to-day I want to get back to the stores before they close.”

“Of course,” added Alice, “for our umbrellas.”

“Of course for something else too,” laughed her father, and though both girls were very curious, not another word would he say.

So they stayed on the bus and rode clear through the park, and up Sheridan Road a long way till the bus turned around at a corner and the conductor shouted, “Far’s we go!”

But the Merrills didn’t get off. They wanted to keep those good front seats so they sat still and in about two minutes the bus started south and whirled them through the park and past all the same interesting sights on the way cityward. This time, Mary Jane felt very much at home in her high-up perch. She dropped in the dimes her father gave her, eyed the passing autos without a bit of fear and looked down on all the children she saw walking and playing quite as though she had lived in a city and ridden in busses all her young life.

It was a very reluctant pair of young ladies that Mr. Merrill assisted to the sidewalk when the big stores and “time to get off” were reached.

“But what was it besides umbrellas you wanted to get?” asked Mary Jane, suddenly remembering.

“Well,” said Mr. Merrill, “I haven’t been through the toy department with anybody. And I have a calendar.”

The girls looked puzzled. What had the toy department to do with a calendar? They couldn’t guess. Even Mrs. Merrill looked puzzled.

“Of course if you don’t intend to have birthdays since we’ve moved—” said Mr. Merrill teasingly. And then everybody knew! To be sure! It was almost time for Mary Jane’s birthday—almost a year, it was, since the lovely birthday party when the little girl was five years old—and in the excitement of moving and getting settled and seeing new sights, even the little lady herself had forgotten how near the day was at hand.

“It’s mine!” exclaimed Mary Jane happily, “and I’ll be six! Come on, quick, Dadah! and I’ll show you perzactly what I want.” When Mary Jane got excited she sometimes got words a little mixed, but her father knew well enough just what she meant. She grabbed hold of his hand, called to her mother and Alice to come on with them and away they went toward the elevator that quickly took them to the toy section.

Going through that department the second time was even more fun than the first trip, because now father was along to see things and to explain mechanical toys. And also because there was the fun of picking out the thing she wanted to wish for, for her birthday. That last was a very serious matter, as every little girl knows.

They looked at dolls—but not a doll was as lovely as Georgiannamore, at least that was Mary Jane’s opinion—and then they looked at furniture and at dishes and toys and games and clothes for dolls and, well, at every single thing in that whole big department. After everything had been considered and looked at and thought about, and it was about time for the big warning bell to ring and tell folks that in ten minutes the store would close and everybody’d have to get out, then and not until then, Mary Jane decided that the thing she wanted most of all was a doll cart. A beautiful little ivory enameled doll cart made just exactly like the one that Junior’s little brother had back at their old home. A cart with a top that moved back and forth just like a real baby cart and that had cushions and tires and everything that a really truly mother is particular to want for her baby.

“Yes,” said Mary Jane, as she looked around the store with a rather tired sigh, “I think that’s the thing I want the most and I’m going to wish for it, Dadah.”

“Sounds easily settled,” laughed her father, “but do you know what time it is?”

Before she could answer, the warning bell rang and clerks began to cover up counters and to straighten up the store for its Sunday rest. So the Merrills four hurried down to get umbrellas and to go home.

On the train going home Mary Jane was so tired looking at things that she didn’t care a bit about looking any more. She watched the lake some, but mostly she simply settled back in her little corner behind the door and just sat. Thoughts of all the wonderful things she had seen that day raced through her mind—the lunch, the ride, the lake, the park—but most of all, that wonderful doll cart, and she couldn’t help wondering (and of course hoping) if she really truly would, possibly, get that lovely gift for her birthday.