Лето
IX
Presentlythethoughtofthecooltrolley-runtotheLakegrewirresistible,andtheystruggledoutofthetheatre.Astheystoodonthepavement,Harneypalewiththeheat,andevenCharityalittleconfusedbyit,ayoungmandrovebyinanelectricrun-aboutwithacalicobandbearingthewords:“TendollarstotakeyouroundtheLake.”BeforeCharityknewwhatwashappening,Harneyhadwavedahand,andtheywereclimbingin.“Say,fortwenny-fiveI’llrunyououttoseetheball-gameandback,”thedriverproposedwithaninsinuatinggrin;butCharitysaidquickly:“Oh,I’drathergorowingontheLake.”Thestreetwassothrongedthatprogresswasslow;butthegloryofsittinginthelittlecarriagewhileitwriggleditswaybetweenladenomnibusesandtrolleysmadethemomentsseemtooshort.“NextturnisLakeAvenue,”theyoungmancalledoutoverhisshoulder;andastheypausedinthewakeofabigomnibusgroaningwithKnightsofPythiasincockedhatsandswords,Charitylookedupandsawonthecornerabrickhousewithaconspicuousblackandgoldsignacrossitsfront.“Dr.Merkle;PrivateConsultationsatallhours.LadyAttendants,”sheread;andsuddenlysherememberedAllyHawes’swords:“ThehousewasatthecornerofWingStreetandLakeAvenue...there’sabigblacksignacrossthefront....”Throughalltheheatandtheraptureashiverofcoldranoverher.
