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. Leo excused himself for the night, Lucille saying the last words in low tones, and then, liveried attendants conducted the Harris family to their suite of rooms. It was half past eight when the Harrises sat down to their first meal in their private dining-room. As Mrs. Harris waited for her hot clam soup to cool a little, she said, "Reuben, this exclusiveness and elegance is quite to my liking. After our return from Europe, why can't we all spend our winters in New York?" "No, mother," said Gertrude, "we have our duties to the people of Harrisville, and father, I am sure, will never stay long away from his mills." But Lucille approved her mother's plan, and was seconded by her brother. Colonel Harris was interested in the views expressed, but with judicial tone, he replied, "The Harrises better wait till the right time comes. Great financial changes are possible in a day." The dinner, though late, was excellent. Before ten o'clock all were glad to retire, except the head of the family, who hoped the night would be short, as the next day might witness very important business transactions. Colonel Harris took the elevator down to the gentlemen's cafe, adjoining the beautiful Garden Court. For a moment he stood admiring the massive fire-place and the many artistic effects, mural and otherwise. The cafe was furnished with round tables and inviting chairs. Guests of the hotel, members of city clubs, and strangers, came and went, but the colonel's mind was in an anxious mood, so he sought a quiet corner, lighted a cigar, and accidently picked up the _Evening Post_. Almost the first thing he read was an item of shipping news: "No word yet from the overdue steamship 'Majestic;' she is already forty-eight hours late, and very likely has experienced bad weather."