Down in the ravine a little in front of her she could read the sign
ATHENS HOTEL. She had heard of Athens. It was the capital of some
place in her geography. She who had so much of Grecian in her soul
was not quite sure of Athens!

In one of the opposite office buildings people were working late.
The curtains were drawn, but the casements were filled with light,
a honey-colored light. The buildings were like great honeycombs;
the dark windows were like the cells that had no honey in them.
Light and life were honey. Kedzie wondered what folks they were behind
those curtains--who they were, and what were they up to. She bet
it was something interesting. She wished she knew them. She wished
she knew a whole lot of city people. But she didn't know a soul.

It was all too glorious to believe. She was in New York! imparadised
in New York!

"Kedzie! Ked-zee-ee!"

"Yes, momma."

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes, momma." She tried to give her voice a faraway, sleepy sound,
for fear that her mother might open the door to be sure.

She crept into bed. The lights burned her weary eyes. She could not
reach them to put them out.

By the head of her bed was a little toy lamp. A chain hung from it.