So she stepped out of the elevator and walked about till she came to a lovely big room, with frost letters on the door, which read, “Ladies’ Reception Room.” It was the most gorgeous room she had ever seen. The pillars were made of solid green ice, the roof was all icicles and stalactites, and the walls were covered with lovely frost pictures, just the kind you see on the window on a cold day--and they changed every now and then. While Maida was admiring the room she became aware that someone was standing at a window gazing out over the city, and looking closer she found it was the most beautiful lady she had ever seen. Her face and hands were snow white, her long robe was white and frosty. She wore a star on her forehead and her face was very sad. For some reason Maida felt very sorry for this lady, so she went to her and touched her on the arms. Did you ever put your hand on an awfully, _awfully_ cold piece of ice on a winter’s day? Remember how it was so cold it almost _burned_? Well, that’s the way Maida felt when she touched the lady. “My! but you’re cold!” said Maida, “I think you’ve got a chill.” The lady smiled sadly, and looked at her, so Maida smiled back, but she kept at a little distance. “Who are you?” asked Maida, “and why do you smile so sadly? And why are you so cold?” “I am Stalacta, an ice maiden, one of the Vestals of the Queen Aurora Borealis.” She sighed, and everything the lady said sounded exactly like the most beautiful poetry. “And with my companions I had sworn never to leave the Queen, but to serve her always. But one night I had a dream--ah, a most glorious vision. I seemed to float away on the bosom of a cloud, to a far land where all was light and warm and beautiful--and there I saw one whom I can never forget--nay, I would not forget him if I could. He was tall and straight and strong, his face was kind and his eyes were true; and as he looked at me my heart seemed to burst its icy bands, and I knew that I could never serve the Queen again, but could only be happy--with him. I beckoned, he drew near. I held out my arms, and then--I awoke. Night after night I dream of him--night after night I see him holding out his arms; he is drawing nearer, always nearer, and I will never rest till he finds me.” “Ah, ah, ah, come with me quick!” cried Maida. So she put on her mittens and took the Ice Lady by the hand, rushed her down the elevator, and hurried her across the hotel office to where the Disconsolate Lover was still standing, looking out the window. “Here he is,” she cried to the Ice Lady; then to the Disconsolate Lover, “Here is your dream--the White Lady.”