rance-hall, with its magnificent frescoed
ceilings, its satin hangings, marble pillars and stained-glass windows,
was a monumental staircase of pure Italian marble and graceful design
which led to the reception-room and other apartments above. The stairway
was artistically decorated with marble statuary, trophies of arms and
priceless tapestries. On the second floor were the famous art-galleries
hung with paintings by the ancient and modern masters.

It was only on extraordinary occasions that visitors were afforded an
opportunity to see all the art treasures which the house contained. For
the greater part of the year the pictures were not on view. To-day,
however, was one of the rare exceptions. Mr. Harmon had thrown open his
entire house in honor of the special event which he was celebrating.

Outside the house, on Fifth Avenue, a crowd of people stood watching the
long string of carriages, automobiles and taxi-cabs in line before the
gate. The day, although fine, was cold and windy and an awning had been
stretched from the portico to the curb to protect the guests from the
weather. The crowd of curious sightseers grew larger as each moment
other cabs and automobiles dashed up. A mounted policeman prevented the
spectators from pressing too close and kept the way open for regular
traffic, while Mr. Harmon's servants in powdered hair and knee-breeches
received each newcomer.

"Gee! Get on to 'em guys wid der white wigs!" cried out a cheeky boy.

"What's all the fuss about?" inquired a bystander.

"Blessed if I know," replied the man curtly.

A well-dressed woman stopped and watched the scene with interest.

"Whose house is that?" she inquired of a policeman.

"John Harmon's, m'm," replied the officer of the law.

"The railroad man?" she asked, with growing interest.

"Yes," answered her informant. "Mr. Harmon's daughter was wrecked on the
_Atlanta_, you know. She was reported drowned. Then they found her on a
desert island. She's home to-day and they're giving a reception to all
their friends in honor of her return."

In the splendid reception-room facing the Avenue rich with its gold and
crimson furnishings, delicately frescoed ceilings, satin brocade
hangings, priceless rugs, onyx tables and heavy red carpet, Grace was
the center of an excited throng of women. Each fresh arrival literally
fought her way through the crowd to get a glimpse of the heroine of the
hour. There were murmurs of surprise and admirat