“What did Mr. Van Zandt say?” he questioned, coming to meet them. “I have tended to your trunks, and put them and your suit cases in your private car. Mr. Ludlow and his gathering party are over in the other side of the station, and I will take you over to them in a few minutes.”

“We can’t very well prove Dorothy’s identity without that locket. It is most necessary for Mr. Van Zandt to have it. I told him,” informed Mrs. Calvert, “that you would keep track of the search, and bring it to him immediately it is found. Also, Jim, I must write to Bellevieu and have some things, a picture of Mr. Calvert and one or two letters I have there, forwarded to you. Will you see that they are placed in Mr. Van Zandt’s hands safely? We had to sign a great many papers. The trouble is in convincing Mr. Van Zandt’s colleague and the London solicitors who have the property in their hands.”

“I will certainly do my level best,” answered Jim, “to get the locket back, and will let you know of everything that comes up.”

Then they all walked slowly across the immense waiting room of the station, and in a far secluded corner found Mr. Ludlow and Ruth, among a group of chattering people, some old, some young, and Dorothy wondered just who belonged to the company and who did not.

Mr. Ludlow came forward. With him was a tall, dark young man. “Mrs. Calvert,” said he, “let me introduce Mr. Dauntrey. Mr. Dauntrey is our treasurer. This is Miss Dorothy Calvert, of whom you have often heard me speak, and her friend, Miss Babcock. Mr. Dauntrey, ladies.”

“I am sure I am very pleased to meet you all, and I am sure we shall all be firm friends before long,” said Mr. Dauntrey, pleasantly, his eyes lingering longer on Dorothy than any of the rest.

Just then Ruth rushed up to Dorothy and exclaimed, “Dear, dear Dorothy, I have been hearing wonderful tales about you – about how you saved your precious violin from the fire, and then were gallantly rescued by Jim, our new hero. Oh, tell me all about it! I am dying to hear it all from you! It must have been very thrilling. Oh, why is it I never get into any such wonderful adventures?”

“I will tell you what little there is to tell when we get started on our trip. We shall have lots of time on the train,” answered the girl.

“Yes, indeed,” said Ruth, “and I shall see that you do not forget your promise. Come over here and let me introduce you to some of the members of our company. I sing. You play the violin. That blonde lady over there, Miss Mary Robbia, has a wonderful contralto voice. The little girl over there, Florence Winter, is a dancer. She does all kinds of classical dances and is considered very wonderful. And Mr. Carlton is the pianist. He is the man standing over there talking to the lady in black.”

Dorothy looked at each person as Ruth pointed them out, and felt that she would enjoy her trip very much, for they all looked like nice, congenial people. Mr. Ludlow came up to her then and presented Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy and Alfy to all the members of the company, each in turn, Miss Robbia, Miss Winter and Mr. Carlton.

They then all said good-bye to all their friends and relatives who had come to see them off, and hastened to board their car, which was to start in a few minutes.

“Good-bye, my little girl,” whispered Jim, kissing a stray lock of Dorothy’s hair as he swung off the car.

The car gave one jerk and then started out. The girls waved good-bye from the car windows till they could no longer see the ones they were leaving behind.

It would take the remainder of the afternoon to reach Washington, and there they were to meet one or two more members of the company, and to learn of the final plans for the whole trip.

CHAPTER XII.
IN WASHINGTON

The train ride passed quickly enough, and just gave Aunt Betty time for a rest. Between intervals of reading, Dorothy told Ruth of all the previous day’s happenings, and before they knew it they had arrived in Washington.

Mr. Dauntrey came to Dorothy and volunteered to take care of their baggage. Aunt Betty had packed the suit cases for all three of them, so she gave him these, saying, “If you will have these in the hotel bus, Mr. Dauntrey, I will be obliged. We shall not get our trunk up to the hotel till late this evening, I heard Mr. Ludlow say.”

“What hotel do we stop at, Mr. Dauntrey?” inquired Ruth.

“At the Willard, Miss Boothington,” he answered, politely adding, “I will come back for your suit cases and tend to you in just a few seconds if you will wait in the car for me.”

“Thank you,” the girl answered, going back into the car to gather her things together. “There, that is all, I guess, a bag, a hat box and one suit case. I can manage to exist with that much for a few days.”

“Come along. Just follow me,” cried Mr. Ludlow, just loud enough for all to hear him. “This way. I want to get you all taken care of and over to the hotel as quickly as possible. I have made reservations and I hope everything will be ready at once for us.”

“Come Ruth,” sang out Dorothy, as she and Aunt Betty and Alfaretta made their way after Mr. Ludlow. “Come or you will be left behind.”

“I promised I’d wait here for Mr. Dauntrey,” answered Ruth. “He is coming back for me. My luggage is all here, and I can’t manage it.”

“Very well, we will wait for you in the stage,” answered Dorothy, and linking her arm in Alfaretta’s, followed close after Mrs. Calvert, who was walking just in front with Mr. Ludlow.

“There’s Mr. Dauntrey,” whispered Alfaretta. “He’s with that little dancer, Miss Winters.”

“So he is,” whispered Dorothy, “I hope he has not forgotten Ruth. Mr. Ludlow usually attends to Ruth himself; I wonder why he has not thought of her?”

“Maybe he is provoked at her,” answered Alfy, very softly so as the couple just in front would not hear them. “He looked at her real cross like, at the Pennsylvania station to-day. She was standing, talking very earnestly with Mr. Dauntrey, and Mr. Ludlow called to her twice and she never heard him.”

“Maybe that’s why. But see, there he goes back. I guess he has gone after Ruth now,” replied Dorothy.

“Here we are. Now all get in. We must hurry,” announced Mr. Ludlow. “Are we all here? Let me see – Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy, Alfaretta, Miss Winters, Miss Robbia and Mr. Carleton,” as the pianist came in sight carrying two suit cases, “but where is Ruth? Ruth and Mr. Dauntrey, where are they?”

“Mr. Dauntrey has just gone back after Ruth. She was gathering her luggage together as I left the car. Mr. Dauntrey said he would hurry back and get her if she would wait,” answered Dorothy.

Just then Ruth and Mr. Dauntrey came in sight. The girl held his arm and was looking up into his face, chatting pleasantly, while in back a porter, very much laden down with Ruth’s belongings, trailed along after them.

The occupants of the bus caught just then a sentence spoken by a passing couple. “See the little bride and groom here on their honeymoon.” At these words Mr. Ludlow frowned deeply and looked very cross indeed. He spoke not a word to Ruth as she was handed into the bus by Mr. Dauntrey, but quickly got in and shut the door behind him.

In a few minutes they had reached the hotel. Mr. Ludlow registered for the party and then the keys were supplied for the rooms assigned to them. Mrs. Calvert and the girls went quickly upstairs and dressed for dinner. The evening meal is always quite a function in Washington. The people for the most part dress in evening clothes. The hotels are almost always crowded with the government people, senators, representatives and officers of various degrees.

Mrs. Calvert went down first and sent a card to Jim telling him of their safe arrival, then the girls joined her.

Mr. Ludlow had arranged for a dinner party. They found some of the company waiting in the lounging room. Soon they were all assembled and Mr. Ludlow and Mrs. Calvert led them into the brilliant dining room where they all had a very gay dinner.

Mr. Ludlow suggested that they visit the Library of Congress, as the evening was a very favorable hour for such a visit. At that time the beautiful interior decorations were seen to great advantage under the brilliant illumination.

“Come, let us get our wraps,” said Mrs. Calvert. “The building closes about ten and there is much of interest to be seen there.”

“Very well,” answered Dorothy. “Do you want your black wrap? I will get it. You sit here.”

“Yes, dear. The black one,” answered Aunt Betty, seating herself and waiting for Dorothy to return.

“Come Alfy,” called Dorothy, and the girls quickly disappeared down the long, brilliantly lighted corridor which was crowded with guests. They were gone but a few moments and returned with their wraps securely fastened and carrying Aunt Betty’s.

“Let me help you into it,” said a cheery voice behind them. Turning, they saw, much to their surprise, Mr. Dauntrey.

“Come with me. I have already secured a taxi, and it will just hold four. The others can follow.”

He took Mrs. Calvert’s arm and gallantly helped her into the taxicab, then Dorothy, and then Alfaretta, each with the same niceness of manner. He then quickly got in himself, taking the one vacant seat beside Dorothy. He closed the door and off they started.

The entrances to the library are in the front, facing the Capitol. A grand staircase leads up to the doorways of the central pavilion, giving access to the main floor. Up this staircase the quartette slowly climbed.

“Just look!” exclaimed Dorothy, when they had reached the top. “Just look around. See all the lights of the Capitol over there. Isn’t it all very beautiful?”

“And look down at the fountain!” cried Alfy. “See how the sea-creatures are blowing water from their mouths, and in the centre ‘Apollo.’”

“No, if I may correct you, that is Neptune,” said Mr. Dauntrey. “I have a guide book here. It is freely placed at your disposal, ladies.”

“I think every one that visits the Capitol should have a guide book,” said Aunt Betty. “It adds immeasurably to one’s pleasure. I have an old one at the hotel, and I have been looking it over. I read it through the last time I was here, not so many years ago. I do not recall the publisher’s name.”

“The one I have here is Rand, McNally Company’s,” said Mr. Dauntrey.

“And so was mine, I remember now, and it was fine, too,” replied Aunt Betty.

“Although that is not Apollo,” said Mr. Dauntrey, “your mention of the name reminds me of a western politician who once visited here. He had great wealth, but little education, and when someone in his presence spoke of a statue of Apollo, he said, ‘Oh, yes, I have one on my parlor mantle. On one end I have Apollo, and on the other, Appolinaris.’”

“An amusing anecdote, and I don’t doubt a real one,” said Aunt Betty, laughing with the others, “but isn’t that a wonderful old fountain? See the beautiful effects produced by the water as it is thrown in cross lines from all those miniature turtles, sea serpents and what not, that are supposed to populate ocean and stream.”

They stepped up the last tread and entered a long corridor, stretching along the front and forming an exaggerated vestibule. They gazed between piers of Italian marble supporting arches, an entrancing vista. In heavy brackets they noted pairs of figures, advanced somewhat from the walls, “Minerva in War,” armed with sword and torch, and “Minerva in Peace,” equipped with scroll and globe.

Before these, greatly admiring them, the girls stood, and Mrs. Calvert said, “Dorothy, those are the most admired ornaments in the whole building, but you can see them again as you pass out. Come, let’s go inside.”

“Yes, if you enjoy great art, Miss Dorothy,” spoke up Mr. Dauntrey, “I will be pleased to personally conduct you through the Art Museum. Art, too, is my one hobby. To be happy I must always have the beautiful, always the beautiful.”

Passing on through the screen of arches, they entered the main hall, in the centre of which ran a magnificent stairway leading to the second floor and rotunda gallery.

“Oh!” gasped Alfaretta. “Isn’t the floor lovely? All little colored marbles. I hate to step on it. What is that brass disk for?”

“Those little pieces of colored marbles are the essential materials for mosaic work, and the brass rayed disk is to show the points of the compass,” said Mr. Dauntrey, kindly looking at the girl with an amused expression.

“Look!” cried Dorothy, “over that way, way far back. See the carved figures?”

“Yes,” answered Aunt Betty. “The one thing the arch typifies is study. The youth eager to learn and the aged man contemplating the fruits of knowledge. It is a very famous group. I have a postcard picture of it that a relative sent me and I always remembered and liked it.”

“Here is something I always thought was interesting, on this side,” said Mr. Dauntrey, leading them to the other side of the hall. “These two boys sitting beside the map of Africa and America. The one in the feathered head-dress and other accoutrements represents the original inhabitants of our country, the American Indian, the other, showing the lack of dress and the war equipment of the ignorant African. Then those two opposite, the one typifying the Mongolian tribes of Asia, the other in classic gown, surrounded by types of civilization indicating the pre-eminence of the Caucasian race in all things, such, for instance, as your chosen profession, music.”

“That would be a good way to study geography,” said Alfy. “Then you would hardly ever fail if you had those interesting figures to look at.”

Aunt Betty then called their attention to the ceiling which was elaborately ornamented with carvings and stucco work with symbols of arts and sciences. The southern walls were full of rare and beautiful paintings, the most striking of these being, “Lyric Poetry,” painted by Walker. It represents Lyric Poetry in an encompassing forest, striking a lyre and surrounded by Pathos, Beauty, Truth, Devotion, and playful Mirth.

The east end of this hall which looks out on the reading rooms is reserved for Senators and members of the House of Representatives. It is decorated in subjects chosen from Greek mythology.

“Come in here,” said Dorothy, entering the periodical or public reading room. “See here, any one, no matter where he is from, can find one of his home papers.”

“Can any one stay here and read anything they want, and as long as they want?” inquired Alfy.

“Yes. It is free to anyone,” answered Mrs. Calvert.

Next they passed into an exhibition hall, where in cases of glass made like a table they saw a great number of rare and curious books representing the beginning time of printing and bookmaking. There were a great many early printed Bibles and specimens of famous special editions of Bibles. Some of them, so they learned, dated back to the fifteenth century and were of much value on account of their rarity. One table in this room especially interested Dorothy. It contained manuscripts, autographs and curious prints relating to the history of our United States.

The print room interested Alfy greatly. This room is devoted to an extensive exhibit of the art of making pictures mechanically. Here are a great series of prints illustrating the development of lithography, and the processes a lithograph goes through whether printed in one or in varied color. Also here are examples of every sort of engraving upon wood, copper and steel. About the walls hang examples of etchings and engravings.

They then entered the Rotunda Galleries. They paused for a moment to look at two paintings there, one of Joy and the other of Sadness.

“I like Joy the best by far,” exclaimed Alfy. Joy, here, was represented by a light-haired, cheerful woman, amid flowers and happy in the sunshine. She went nearer the picture and read out loud the beautiful words of Milton’s famous “L’Allegro.”

“Come thou goddess, fair and free,
In Heaven ycleped Euphroysine,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth.

Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks and wreathed smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek.”

“I learned most of that poem by heart when I went to school at Oak Knowe,” said Dorothy.

“Indeed, and so did I,” answered Mr. Dauntrey, “at school but not at Oak Knowe,” he laughed. “But my favorite was the other poem, ‘Il Penserose.’”

“The other picture represents that,” said Mrs. Calvert.

“Listen while I recite to you the lines that inspired that picture,” said Mr. Dauntrey, and in a wonderful voice he brought out each shade of meaning:

“Hail, thou goddess, sage and holy!
Hail, divinest Melancholy!

Come; but keep thy wonted state,
With even step and musing gait,
And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in their eyes,
There held in holy passion still
Forget thyself to marble…”

The stack rooms or apartments where the books are kept open out on each side of the rotunda. The cases rise way up to the roof and are filled with adjustable shelves. There are decks at intervals of every few feet from top to bottom by which the attendants reach the books.

Each of these stacks will hold eight hundred thousand books, and although they may be consulted by any one, very few are ever lost, for only members of Congress and about thirty other officials can take books out of the library.

“As there is a constant call for books of reference from the Capitol when legislators often want a volume for instant use, an underground tunnel has been made between the two buildings. This contains a cable carrier upon which books can be sent back and forth,” explained Mr. Dauntrey. “But haven’t you seen enough of the library now?”

“There is Mr. Ludlow!” exclaimed Dorothy, “and I think he is calling us.”

“Yes, let us go over to him,” added Mrs. Calvert. “Come.”

“Ah, here you all are,” said Mr. Ludlow. “I called to you just now because there is one painting I would like to have you all see before you go upstairs to the restaurant.”

“Is it here?” questioned Dorothy.

“No. You follow me and I will bring you to it in just a few seconds,” answered Mr. Ludlow.

“Here we are. I want you all to follow this series of pictures.”

“It is called the evolution of the book,” added Mrs. Calvert.

The series begins with a picture representing the means that the prehistoric men took to commemorate an event singly – the creation of the cairn, nothing more nor less than the piling up of stones. Then comes a picture illustrating oral tradition – an Arab story writer of the desert. The third represents an Egyptian carving hyroglyphics on a tomb. These are the forerunners and the next is picture writing, represented by an American Indian painting some tribal story or event. In lieu of paper he uses a skin. The fifth is shown by a figure of a monk sitting by the embrasure of his cell, laboriously decorating the pages of some sacred book of the Middle Ages. And finally, the initial attainment of modern methods is shown by a scene in the shop of Guttenburg, where the original printer is seen examining a proof sheet, while an employe looks over his shoulder, and another assistant has the lever of a crudely constructed press in hand.

They all thought this series of pictures a beautiful one, and very interesting.

Dorothy commented, “If they had not discovered how to print and make books, I wonder if we would have had a library like this one here, filled with stones all covered with hyroglyphics?”

“I hardly think so,” answered Mr. Ludlow, “for we could never get so much stone in a building. But come now. We will go upstairs to the little restaurant and sit down and rest for a few minutes.”

So taking the elevator they reached the restaurant which is located in the upper floor of the building, and finding a large table, they seated themselves.

They ordered ice cream for the girls, and the men took lemonade.

While refreshing themselves, Mr. Ludlow said, “I would like to see you all in the morning at ten o’clock. I will then disclose our plans to you for the next few weeks. Also, to-morrow, our number will be increased by three more singers who will join us here. They are Miss Dozzi and Mrs. Helmholz and Signor de Reinzzi.”

Every one said they would be on time in the morning, and started to go back to the hotel. On the way out from the library, Dorothy asked, “Mr. Ludlow, are all these pictures and pieces of statuary done by Italians and other foreigners?”

“No, indeed,” he answered. “The decorations are wholly the work of American architects, painters and sculptors, more than fifty of whom participated in the work. So that, you see, the library is an exhibit of the native art and ability of the citizens of the United States and a memorial to them.”