“Can you play them all?” gasped Beth, wide-eyed with awe. Natalie laughed. “No, indeed, but mama gives musicales in the winter, and she has people come who can play them. This is the picture gallery.” “All these?” murmured Beth vaguely. This was a long room, its walls covered with green; a railing ran around it three or four feet from the wall. Pictures and still more pictures hung from floor to ceiling against these walls, and rare marbles and bronzes stood on pedestals in spaces built for them against heavy draperies that threw into relief their perfect loveliness, their glorious strength. Beth did not know that her uncle’s collection of paintings and sculpture was famous in the city, but she dimly understood that here was a world of beauty whose existence she had never guessed. “Oh, me,” she sighed gratefully, “what a lot of things there are to know, and what a happy world it is!” “Mama will tell you about the pictures some day,” said Natalie. “Father will, if he finds you can learn to love them. He doesn’t like to waste time on people who never could care for them. Now come up-stairs and see the ballroom. That is built out over all these rooms, the music room, the billiard room and this gallery. “Turn on the lights, Alys; it is getting dusky, and anyway this room is best by electricity,” said Natalie as they paused in the great arched doorway of a room so big, so splendid that this time Beth could not so much as breathe as she looked down its great length. It was a room all white and gold as to walls; its high paneled ceiling was painted with a design of flowers and long, eddying links of Greek maidens in floating draperies and happy children and birds flying; the painted poem of beautiful motion. Against the doors and windows hung curtains of deep-hued golden silk and velvet; the polished floor reflected the countless lights that flashed from the cut-glass chandeliers. At one end of the room was a screened balcony for musicians and around it at intervals were deep recessed niches, resting places for dancers, while luxurious and curious seats stood about, to offer hospitality to onlookers. There were galleries for like purpose on three sides of the room. “Do you use it?” asked Beth in a whisper. “We haven’t had anything here for two winters,” said Natalie. “Mama says we may dance here Thanksgiving night, when we have the costume party. When I come out--just think, it will be in three years, Beth!--we are going to have a ball that is going to be a dream. You can be planning your gown till it comes off, Beth.” “I shall be at home then,” said Beth wistfully. “Well, I rather think you will be here!” declared Natalie. “Now we’ve found you we aren’t going to lose you, little cousin, and you will be at my coming-out party, even if you aren’t old enough to be out yourself.” “We’d better leave the gymnasium till another time,” said Alys. “Beth has seen all there is now, except the rooms in the basement, and the gymnasium.”