special interest. He would purposely sneak up-stairs and sit on one of
the soft sofas in the foyer simply to see the well-dressed diners go in
and come out. Edward would speculate on whether the time would ever
come when he could dine in that wonderful room just once!

One evening he called, after the close of business, upon General and
Mrs. Grant, whom he had met before, and who had expressed a desire to
see his collection. It can readily be imagined what a red-letter day
it made in the boy's life to have General Grant say: "It might be
better for us all to go down to dinner first and see the collection
afterward." Edward had purposely killed time between five and seven
o'clock, thinking that the general's dinner-hour, like his own, was at
six. He had allowed an hour for the general to eat his dinner, only to
find that he was still to begin it. The boy could hardly believe his
ears, and unable to find his voice, he failed to apologize for his
modest suit or his general after-business appearance.

As in a dream he went down in the elevator with his host and hostess,
and when the party of three faced toward the dining-room entrance, so
familiar to the boy, he felt as if his legs must give way under him.
There have since been other red-letter days in Edward Bok's life, but
the moment that still stands out pre-eminent is that when two colored
head waiters at the dining-room entrance, whom he had so often watched,
bowed low and escorted the party to their table. At last he was in
that sumptuous dining-hall. The entire room took on the picture of one
great eye, and that eye centred on the party of three--as, in fact, it
naturally would. But Edward felt that the eye was on him, wondering
why he should be there.

What he ate and what he said he does not recall. General Grant, not a