he station, some
coming, some leaving, but all bearing upon their faces the marks of
haste and impatience. As the people hurried to and fro, the sound of
many tongues arose. There was nearly every accent of Europe, but the
American rose over and enveloped all. Many writers from other lands,
seeking only the bad, had pronounced the Babel coarse, vulgar, and
sordid; but Harley, seeking the good, saw in it men and women toiling to
better their condition in the world, and that fact he knew was not bad.

Through the station windows he saw the tall buildings rise floor on
floor, and there was a clang of car-bells that never ceased. In the
fresh morning air it was inspiriting, and Harley felt himself a part of
the crowd. He was no hermit. Life and activity and the spectacle of
people filled with hope always pleased him.

An ordinary cab arrived, and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, alighting from it,
bought their tickets at the window, just like anybody else, and then
sought inconspicuous seats in the corner of the waiting-room, as their
train would not be ready for five minutes. In the hastening crowd they
were not noticed at first, but even in the dusk of the corner the
smoothly shaven face and massive features of Mr. Grayson were soon
noticed. His picture had been staring at them all from the front page of
the newspapers, and here was the reality, too like to be overlooked.
There was a sudden delay in the crowd; the two streams, one flowing
outward and the other inward, wavered, then stopped and began to stare
at the candidate, not intrusively, but with a kindly curiosity that it
considered legitimate. Harley had quietly joined the Graysons, and they
gave him a sincere welcome. The people unfamiliar with his face began to
speculate audibly on his identity.

The crowd in the station, reinforced from many side-doors, thickened,
and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, under the gaze of so many eyes, became uneasy
and shy. Harley, who had been made a member of their party, found
himself sharing this awkward feeling, and he was glad to hear the
announcement that the train was ready.

The three abreast moved towards the gate, and the crowd opened a way
just wide enough, down which they marched, still under the human battery
of a thousand eyes. To Harley, although little of this gaze was meant
for him, the sensation was indescribable. It was something to be an
object of so much curiosity, but the thrill was more than offset by the
weight that it put u