Mrs. Harris, Leo, and Lucille, took seats in the carriage; Gertrude and her mother were on the back seat, while Lucille and her artist friend faced Mrs. Harris and daughter.

Jean sat upright with the coachman.  Colonel Harris and Alfonso rejoined their friends and together entered the coupe.  Reuben Harris once served on the governor’s staff for seven weeks, ranking as colonel, so now all his friends, even his family, spoke of him as “the Colonel.”  It was well, as it pleased his vanity.

The coachmen’s whips left their sockets, and coupe and carriage dashed along 42nd Street and down Fifth Avenue.  The ten minutes’ drive passed as a dream to some in the carriage.  Mrs. Harris’s mind revelled in the intricate warfare of society.  She had often been in New York, and in the summers was seen at the most fashionable watering places with her children.  Her mind was burdened trying to discover the steps that lead to the metropolitan and international “four hundred.”  She was determined that her children should marry into well regulated families, and that the colonel should have a national reputation.  So absorbed was she that her eyes saw not, neither did her ears hear what transpired in the carriage.  Gertrude was equally quiet; her thoughts were of dear friends she had left in Harrisville.  The occupants of the front seats had talked in low tones of recent society events in New York, and a little of art.  Lucille herself had dabbled in color for a term or two in a fashionable school on the Back Bay in Boston.

The colonel had become enthusiastic in his talk about his own recent business prosperity.  Suddenly coupe and carriage stopped in front of the main entrance of the Hotel Waldorf.  How fine the detail of arch and columns!  How delicate the architect’s touch of iron and glass in the porte-cochere!

The Harris family stepped quickly into the public reception-room to the left of the main entrance adjoining the office, leaving Jean and the porter to bring the hand-baggage.  The decorated ceiling framed a central group of brilliant incandescent lights with globes.  Leo directed attention to the paintings on the walls, and furniture and rugs.

The colonel excused himself and passed out and into the main offices.  The sight about him was an inspiring one.  The architect’s wand had wrought grace and beauty in floor, ceiling, column, and wall.  Gentlemen, old and young, were coming and going.  Professional men, not a few, bankers and business men jostled each other.  Before the colonel had reached the clerk’s desk, he had apologized, twice at least, for his haste.  The fact was that metropolitan activity delighted his heart, but it disturbed just a little his usual good behavior.  Nervously, he wrote in the Waldorf register plain Reuben Harris, wife and two daughters.  He wanted to prefix colonel.  His son added his own name.  Colonel Harris, at his request, was given the best apartments in the Waldorf.