What the architect thought of the "Golfo di Napoli," which hung in
its vast gold revel of rococo frame against the gray wood of the hall,
is to be conjectured--perhaps he had not seen it.

"Edith, did you say only eleven feet?" Bibbs panted, staring at it,
as the white-jacketed twin of a Pullman porter helped him to get out
of his overcoat.

"Eleven without the frame," she explained. "It's splendid, don't
you think? It lightens things up so. The hall was kind of gloomy
before."

"No gloom now!" said Bibbs.

"This statue in the corner is pretty, too," she remarked. "Mamma and
I bought that." And Bibbs turned at her direction to behold, amid a
grove of tubbed palms, a "life-size," black-bearded Moor, of a plastic
composition painted with unappeasable gloss and brilliancy. Upon his
chocolate head he wore a gold turban; in his hand he held a gold-
tipped spear; and for the rest, he was red and yellow and black and
silver.

"Hallelujah!" was the sole comment of the returned wanderer, and
Edith, saying she would "find mamma," left him blinking at the Moor.
Presently, after she had disappeared, he turned to the colored man who
stood waiting, Bibbs's traveling-bag in his hand. "What do YOU think
of it?" Bibbs asked, solemnly.

"Gran'!" replied the servitor. "She mighty hard to dus'. Dus' git
in all 'em wrinkles. Yessuh, she mighty hard to dus'."