On the ground floor were dining-room and kitchen, below that a well-filled cellar. The hall was toned a rich Pompeiian red, and was lit by two windows of brilliant stained glass which had been put in when the building was transformed from a residence into a studio. “Oh, yes,” Barney would say, when he was complimented on these windows. “They are all very well in their way, but not original, don’t you know, not original. No, they are simply nicely executed copies of a portion of a window in Cologne Cathedral done in 1508. I placed them there temporarily, because I have been so busy that I have not had time to design anything better myself, which I shall do later on, don’t you know.” But of all the ornamental appendages to this studio, perhaps the most striking was Barney’s “man,” attired in a livery of blue, crimson, and silver, which was exceedingly effective. Although Barney had not had time to design a stained-glass window which would excel those of Cologne, he had been compelled to sketch out this livery, for it was not a thing that one could copy from abroad, and the Hope family had not been established long enough to have a recognized livery of its own. Nothing gives character and dignity to a place so much as a “man” sumptuously fitted out in a style that is palpably regardless of cost, and if it may be plainly seen that the “man” performs no needful function whatever, then is the effect heightened, for few human beings attain the apex of utter inutility. The great hotels of this country recognize the distinction reflected upon them by the possession of a creature of splendour at their doors, who grandly wafts the incoming guests with a hand-wave towards the hall. But these persons of embellishment often demean themselves by opening the doors of cabs and performing other useful acts, thus detracting from their proper function, which was, Barney insisted, to content themselves with being merely beautiful. When a visitor once complained that the man at the top of the stair had refused to direct him into the studio, Barney laid his right hand in friendly brotherliness on the visitor’s shoulder, and said: “He knew, dear boy, that I would discharge him instantly if he so far forgot himself as to answer a question.” “Then what is he there for?” asked the visitor, with some indignation. “I don’t see the use of him.”