t here I want to show you one of the
most wonderful glass products of America," said he. "It is called
Favril glass and is made at Coronna, Long Island. Just how, I do not
know. The process is a secret one. You remember, don't you, the
marvelous iridescent colors of the ancient Egyptian glass we saw in the
British Museum? And you recall how exquisite was the turquoise glaze on
some of the old pieces? Well, the Tiffany people have tried to imitate
that, and so well have they succeeded that they have received many
medals in recognition of their skill. Museums all over the world from
Tokio to Christiania have purchased collections of the glass that it
may be exhibited and enjoyed by young and old. I am going to show you
some of it now."

Up in an elevator they sped, and alighting at one of the upper floors
Uncle Bob led the way into a room rich with silken hangings and rare
oriental rugs; all about this room were vases, plates, lamp-shades, and
ornaments of beautiful hues. There were great golden glass bowls
glinting with elusive lights of violet, blue, and yellow; there were
vases opalescent with burning flecks of orange and copper; there were
green glass plates and globes which shaded into tones of blue as
delicate as mother-of-pearl.

"Oh!" sighed Jean rapturously, "I never saw anything so lovely! Look at
these plates, Uncle Bob, do look at them. How ever did they get the
color? It is like a sunset."

"The Tiffanys, like Blaschka the flower modeler, are not telling the
world how they get their results. Rest assured, however, many and many
hours must have been spent in experiments before such artistic products
could be obtained."

"Think of the struggles with color and with firing," Giusippe murmured.

"And the pieces that must have been spoiled!" put in Jean.

"But think of the triumph of at last taking from the lehrs such gems as
these! The results which air, soil, and age have by chance produced in
the ancient Egyptian and Graeco-Syrian glass the Tiffanys have created
in a modern ware. It is a great achievement, and a royal contribution
to the art of the world."

The children would have been glad to linger for a much longer time in
the vast shop had not the chime of a clock warned them that the noon
hour, when they were to meet Miss Cartright, was approaching. She had
promised to lunch with them all at the Holland House.

Yes, she looked just the same, "only prettier," Jean whispered to
Giusippe. Certainly t