"What happens?" asked Helen.

"If there's a lecture," said Roger apprehensively, "me for the woods."

"If you stand on the edge of the Amphitheatre you can slip away after the introduction but it is worth your while to be present when the gavel falls because you want to follow every important event as it happens right through the season."

So the whole family fell into line when the bell in the tower on the lake shore rang to indicate that in five minutes a meeting would begin.

"That tower has been built since I was here," said Mrs. Emerson.

"It's called the Miller Memorial Tower," said Ethel Blue gravely.

"How in the world did you find that out so quickly?"

"We saw it from the porch and ran down there to look at it," she replied.

When either of the Ethels said "we" the other Ethel was the partner in the plural form.

"Who told you it was called the Miller Tower?"

"A nice girl about our age who was sitting on the bench near it. She heard us wondering and she came over and said it was named in memory of Mr. Miller. He was one of the founders of Chautauqua Institution."

"He's dead now," explained Ethel Brown, "but Bishop Vincent is alive and he'll be here on the grounds in a few days. He's the other founder. He's the one that had the Idea."

"What idea?" asked Helen.

"Dorothy said—"

"Who is Dorothy?"

"Dorothy is the girl who was talking to us. Dorothy said it was a great Idea that Bishop Vincent had to make people come out into the woods to study and to hear lectures and music."

"Bishop Vincent is a remarkable man," said Grandmother, who had been listening with interest to the girls' explanations. "You are lucky young people to be able to see him and perhaps to speak to him."

From the lake the family procession walked up another steep hill to the Amphitheatre, a huge structure with a sloping floor, covered with benches, and having a roof but no sides. At one end was a platform and behind it rose the golden pipes of a large organ. The audience was gathering rapidly. Only the pit was full, for on this opening day of the Assembly people had not yet come in great numbers, while many, like the Emersons and Mortons, had but just arrived and were not settled.

As the bell finished ringing the Director of the Institution walked upon the stage and after rapping three times with his gavel declared the Assembly open.

"Chautauqua Institution has three activities;" he said, "its Assembly, its Summer Schools and its all-the-year-round Home Reading Course. Its work never begins and never ends. Chautauqua has given a new word to the language; has been the pioneer in summer assemblies and summer schools, and has become the recognized leader of the world in home education. Since 1874 the Chautauqua movement has spread until there are 3,000 summer gatherings in this country alone which have taken the name.

"During these years this platform here at Chautauqua has been one of the greatest forums of our modern life. Here every good movement has received a hearty welcome. During the first year, from this place went out the call for the organization of the Women's Christian Temperance Union. Here was held the first successful summer school in America.

"Here new organizations have found their first opportunity. Here great political and social and economic problems have been discussed by those who by knowledge and experience are able to speak with authority. Chautauqua, the place, has been beautified and equipped with every convenience for community life. It has been a paradise for little children, has offered every opportunity for wholesome recreation, has given the best of music, literature, poetry and art freely to those who enjoy them.

"Every one who enjoys any of the privileges of this great Institution has a corresponding measure of obligation. The measure of what you take away from Chautauqua is wholly determined by what you bring to it. No system of lectures or of individual study can compare with this great co-operative opportunity which Chautauqua gives for living together, for working out one's own intellectual and religious salvation in terms of intercourse with others. Here are gathered people of vision, people who are striving for efficiency of personality, people who realize that we live in a time of new opportunities and new duties."

A burst of applause followed these inspiring words. Then the young people all left quietly, except Roger, who stayed with the elders after all, when he found that the speaker was to be the President of Berea College, Kentucky. Roger had read of President Wilson's calling these Southern highlanders "a part of the original stuff of which America was made," and he wanted to hear about their sturdy life from a man who knew them well.

The girls went exploring toward the southern end of the grounds.

"I believe this must be the Girls' Club," said Ethel Brown. "Dorothy told us where it was. She said she was going to join it."

"They learn to make baskets and to cook and to swim and to do folk dancing and all sorts of things," explained Ethel Blue. "Don't you think Aunt Marion will let us belong, Helen?"

"I'm sure she will," agreed Helen, as they went up the steps of the hospitable looking building and peered through the windows.

"When will it open?"

"Next week. I'm perfectly crazy about it; I can hardly wait," and one Ethel seized the other Ethel's hand and skipped down the steps with her.

"This next place must be the Boys' Club building if there is such a thing," said Helen.

"There is," cried Ethel Brown. "Dorothy told us so."

"Dorothy seems to know all about everything."

"She does. She was here last summer, and she says she has been all over the United States and she never had such a good time anywhere as she had here."

"We'll certainly have to belong, then. Are there any girls as old as I am?"

"Yes, and I asked if Dicky was too little to belong to the Boys' Club and Dorothy said that he wasn't if he wasn't babyish."

"Dicky isn't babyish."

"I told her that he could dress himself and that Mary didn't pay much attention to him any more and that he tried to do all the things that he saw Roger do and that he went on really long walks with us."

"So she thought they'd take him."

"I told her Roger called him a 'good little sport' and she said she guessed he was all right."

"Over there must be the bathing beach," said Ethel Blue as they turned away from the lake and started up another hilly street lined with houses.

"I hope there's a swimming teacher for you girls," said Helen. "Father taught me when I was smaller than you are, but you've never had a chance to learn yet."

"I'm going to learn this summer if I don't do another thing," exclaimed Ethel Brown enthusiastically.

"So am I," said Ethel Blue.

At the top of the hill the girls came out on an open place with a rustic fountain in the centre. At the left was a beautiful building shaped like a Greek temple. It was creamy in color and gleamed softly against a background of trees.

"What is that do you suppose?" wondered Ethel Blue.

"A-U-L-A C-H-R-I-S-T-I," spelled Ethel Brown as they stood gazing at the inscription over the door. "What does that mean?"

"Aula, aula," repeated Helen slowly. "Oh, I know; it's Latin for hall. That must mean Hall of Christ. It looks quite new."

"Probably it's another thing that's been built since Grandmother was here."

"We must ask her about it. Perhaps they have church there."

"It's a lot prettier than this building," and Ethel Blue nodded her head toward a large wooden house painted cream color. "C.L.S.C. Alumni Hall," she read. "What does that mean?"

"Children, Ladies, Sons and Chickens," guessed Ethel Brown.

"Come Let's See Chautauqua," contributed Ethel Blue.

"Chautauqua Literary and Scientific Circle," supplied a pleasant voice and the girls turned to meet the smile of a tall, slender woman who was on her way into the building. "That's the name of the association that does the Home Reading Course work."

"Oh, I know," cried Helen; "Grandmother joined when she was here ten years ago and Mother and Grandfather belong, too."

"Did your grandmother graduate?" asked the lady, who seemed much interested.

"She had her diploma sent to her. She hasn't been here since that first time."

"You must tell her that she must watch the Daily for notices of meetings of her class and that there are many festivities during Recognition Week that she can take part in."

"Grandfather and Mother are in this year's class," said Helen shyly.

It proved that the lady knew their names and where they lived.

"You see I am the Executive Secretary of the C.L.S.C.," she explained in answer to the girls' look of surprise, "so I correspond with many people whom I never have a chance to meet unless they come here in the summer."

"Why, you must be Miss Kimball," cried Helen. "I've heard Mother speak of having letters from you."

"Yes, I'm Miss Kimball, and I hope you're going to be a Reader when your school work gives you time for it."

"It will be Roger's turn to join next," said Ethel Brown timidly; "he's older than Helen. And Ethel Blue and I'll belong later. There ought to be some member of the family joining every little while so that we can all go to special things every summer we come up here."

Miss Kimball laughed.

"I see you're already converted to Chautauqua though this is only your first day," she said. "Would you like to go into the C.L.S.C. building? I have an errand here and then I'll walk over to the Hall of Philosophy with you."

The interior of the C.L.S.C. building was not more beautiful than the exterior, but it was full of interest as Miss Kimball explained it to her new companions. The C.L.S.C. classes, it seemed, occupied the rooms for their meetings. So many classes had graduated since the reading work began in 1878 that they could no longer have separate rooms. Sometimes three or four occupied the same room.

"There are plans on foot now," said Miss Kimball, "to have each room's decoration designed by an artist and when that is done it will be as perfect to look at as it is now to feel, for the C.L.S.C. spirit is always harmonious if the color schemes aren't.

"Here is your mother's and grandfather's classroom, down stairs near the door. You've seen that every room has its treasures, its mementoes that mean a great deal to the class members. The 1914 Class hasn't had time to pick up mementoes yet but they have a really valuable ornament in these pictures. They are from a first edition of 'Nicholas Nickleby' which one of the members found in her attic and sacrificed to the good cause."

The girls examined carefully the funny drawings of men with impossible legs and women with extraordinary skirts. Then they glanced at the bust above them.

"It's Dickens," said Helen.

"1914 is the 'Dickens Class.' They began to read in the English Year—the year when all the topics were about England—so they took the name of an English author. Now if you've seen enough we can go over to the Hall of Philosophy for a minute before I must go back to my office."

The three girls were almost overcome by the wonder of being at Chautauqua only one day and meeting and talking with this officer whose name had been familiar to Helen, at least, for a long time. Her geniality prevented them from being speechless, however, and they walked across the open place with happy thoughts of all they would have to tell the family when they got home.

The rustic fountain was a gift from a C. L. S. C. class, they learned as they passed it, and here, ahead of them was the Hall of Philosophy.

"It's almost exactly like the picture in Helen's 'History of Greece,'" cried Ethel Blue, "the temple at Athens, you know."

"The Parthenon," murmured Helen.

"It does make you think of the Parthenon," said Miss Kimball. "In a small way this is beautiful, too, in its setting of green trees, though that was larger of course and its stone pillars gleamed against the vivid blue sky."

"You must have seen it," guessed Helen, struck by the enjoyment of Miss Kimball's tone.

"Ah, Athens is one of the joyous memories of my life!" she exclaimed.

Like the Amphitheatre the building had no sides. The dark beams of the roof were supported by pillars and the breeze blew softly through. Miss Kimball and the girls sat down to rest a while. A sort of wide pulpit faced them, and the chairs were arranged before it in a semi-circle.

"See those mosaic squares laid in the floor," cried Ethel Brown. "They are all different. Look, each one has a name on it and a date and a flower or something."

"They have been put in by the C.L.S.C. classes," explained Miss Kimball, and Helen added, "I remember reading in Mother's Chautauqua magazine that her class had their tablet put down last summer but it was not to be dedicated until this summer when a lot of people would be here to graduate. Let's see if we can find one marked Dickens."

"They're all put in in order," cried Ethel Brown. "The numbers run right along except where there's a square skipped once in a while. Yes, yes, here's Mother's; here's the Dickens square," and the little group gathered around the Dickens tablet, feeling an ownership that they had not felt before. They were yet to learn that everybody has a sense of ownership at Chautauqua because all the public buildings are built for everybody and are used by everybody all the time.

"Here are 'Dickens' and '1914' on Aunty's square," said Ethel Blue, "and a rose."

"The English rose is the class flower," said Miss Kimball.

"Is the course very hard?" asked Ethel Blue shyly.

"We say it's 'Easy for Anybody; Worth While for Everybody,'" laughed Miss Kimball. "We don't mean to make it hard; just sensible and—well, 'worth while' describes it as well as anything."

"We'll be awfully proud of Helen when she belongs," said loyal Ethel Blue, slipping her arm around her tall cousin's waist.

"Be sure to tell your grandmother that she may pass through the Golden Gate on Recognition Day behind the graduating class," said Miss Kimball, smiling and walking quickly away to her work.

The girls called after her a "Good-bye" and thanks for her guidance.

Leaving the Hall they turned in the direction of home, passing through a street lined with cottages, one of which, they noticed, was marked "Unitarian Headquarters," another "Baptist House," and another "Disciples' House," while up a side street they saw a Lutheran sign.

"They seem to have houses instead of churches here," said Ethel Blue.

"I noticed a 'Methodist House' back of the Amphitheatre," said Helen.

"And a 'Congregational House' on one side and a 'Presbyterian House' on the other," cried Ethel Blue. "You can go to any kind you want to just the same as if you were at home. Look, the people are coming out of the Amphitheatre now," she added.

"There's Mother—there are Grandmother and Grandfather. Hullo, hullo," called Ethel Brown, and the two children tore along the matting laid down beside the auditorium to keep the noise of passing feet from disturbing the audiences.

"What do you think we did? Whom do you think we saw?" they cried breathlessly, and recited all their adventures as fast as they could talk.

"You're very lucky children," said Grandfather, "and we must celebrate the event," so they went across the square and investigated the refreshment booth in the pergola. Then the elders strolled slowly back over the road the young people had just come, for there was to be a reading at five o'clock in the Hall of Philosophy and they thought they would see the Hall of Christ and the C.L.S.C. building before it began.

Helen and the Ethels went with them part of the way and then turned down a side street to catch a glimpse of the lake again.

"Perhaps we'll come across Roger somewhere," said Helen.

But it was not Roger but James Hancock whom they met as they walked along the lake front.