The boy turned in at a door at last. He flashed on the lights, set the bags on a bag-rack, hung up the coats, opened a window, adjusted the shade, lighted the lights in Kedzie's room, opened her window, adjusted the shade, and asked if there were anything else. Adna knew what the little villain meant, but he knew what was expected, and he said, sternly, “Ice-water.” “Right here, sir,” said the boy, and indicated in the bathroom a special faucet marked “Drinking Water.” This startled even Adna so much that it shook a dime out of him. The boy sighed and went away. Kedzie surprised his eye as he left. It plainly found no fault with her. Here in seclusion Mrs. Thropp dared to exclaim at the wonders of modern invention. Kedzie was enfranchised and began to jump and squeal at the almost suffocating majesty. Adna took to himself the credit for everything. “Well, momma, here we are in New York at last. Here we are, daughter. You got your wish.” Kedzie nearly broke his neck with her hug, and called him the best father that ever was. And she meant it at the moment, for the moment. Mrs. Thropp was already making herself at home, loosening her waistband and her corset-laces. Adna made himself at home, too--that is, he took off his coat and collar and shoes. But Kedzie could not waste her time on comfort while there was so much ecstasy to be had. She went to the window, shoved the sash high, and--discovered New York. She greeted it with an outcry of wonder. She called to her mother and father to “Come here and looky!” Her mother moaned, “I wouldn't come that far to look at New Jerusalem.” Adna yawned noisily and pulled out his watch. His very eyes yawned at it, and he said: “'Levum o'clock. Good Lord! Git to bed quick!” Kedzie was furious at ending the day so abruptly. She wanted to go out for a walk, and they sent her to her room. She watched at the window as she peeled off her coarse garments and put her soft body into a rough nightgown as ill-cut and shapeless as she was neither. She had been turned by a master's lathe. She waited till she heard her father's well-known snore seesawing through the panels. Then she went to the window again to gaze her fill at the town. She fell in love with it and told it so. She vowed that she would never leave it. She had not come to a strange city; she had just reached home. She leaned far out across the ledge to look down at the tremendously inferior street. She nearly pitched head foremost and scrambled back, but with a giggle of bliss at the excitement. She stared at the dark buildings of various heights before her. There was something awe-inspiring about them. Across a space of roofs was the electric sign of an electric company, partly hidden by buildings. All Kedzie could see of it was the huge phrase LIGHT--HEAT--POWER. She thought that those three graces would make an excellent motto.