The collection, based on the amalgamation of the Astor and Lenox libraries, was huge. Backed with bequests from Watts and Tilden, the splendid new beaux arts building, designed by Carrère & Hastings, stretched across the two blocks from Fortieth Street to Forty-second. It might have taken an inordinate time to build, but it was worth it. The marbled facade and broad steps, flanked by two lions, could hardly be more magnificent, yet the place was also welcoming. Thanks to a huge donation from Andrew Carnegie, the New York Public Library system was among the most generous free institutions in the world.

Though the building would not be open to the general public until the following day, there was quite a crowd of the city’s richest and most important folk looking round after President Taft had done the honors.

Old Hetty Master moved rather slowly.

“I’m so glad,” she said to Mary O’Donnell, “that I’ve got you to go round with me.”

The last year had seen rather a decline in Hetty, which was only to be expected at her age. As they moved through the great marble entrance hall, however, she insisted on walking up the stairs.

“It’s two floors up,” Mary warned her. And the floors were terribly high.

“I can walk,” the old lady insisted. “And I want to see this Reading Room they keep talking about.” The Reading Room on the third floor spanned the entire length of the building, almost a hundred yards. “I remember coming here when they had the Crystal Palace just behind it,” she remarked.

“I know,” said Mary.

It took time, but they got to the Reading Room, and when they did, they were impressed. It stretched away like one of the vast corridors in the Vatican.

“Well,” said Hetty, “it’s certainly large.”

“It is,” said Mary.

“I hope,” said Hetty, as she gazed at the rows of tables, “that they can find that many people who want to read. I always fall asleep in libraries, don’t you?”

“I hardly use them,” Mary confessed.

“Plenty of room to sleep in here,” said Hetty. “Let’s go down.”

It was a bright day outside as they came slowly down the steps onto Fifth Avenue.

“I’m pleased I saw it,” said Hetty, “but I’ll be glad to go home. I feel a little tired.” She paused while Mary looked out for a cab. “Did I tell you,” she said, “that my husband proposed to me right here, when they’d just built the reservoir?”

“Yes,” said Mary, with a smile.

“That was a wonderful day,” said Hetty.

“It must have been,” said Mary.

Then Hetty suddenly said, “Oh.”

“What is it?” said Mary.

But Hetty didn’t say anything. She staggered, as if she’d suddenly been struck.