“Well, business conditions ain’t what they ought to be out West, neither, not by a long shot.” “That’s a fact. And I guess the hotel business feels it. That’s one good thing, though: these hotels that’ve been charging five bucks a day--yes, and maybe six-seven!--for a rotten room are going to be darn glad to get four, and maybe give you a little service.” “That’s a fact. Say, uh, speaknubout hotels, I hit the St. Francis at San Francisco for the first time, the other day, and, say, it certainly is a first-class place.” “You’re right, brother! The St. Francis is a swell place--absolutely A1.” “That’s a fact. I’m right with you. It’s a first-class place.” “Yuh, but say, any of you fellows ever stay at the Rippleton, in Chicago? I don’t want to knock-- I believe in boosting wherever you can--but say, of all the rotten dumps that pass ’emselves off as first-class hotels, that’s the worst. I’m going to _get_ those guys, one of these days, and I told ’em so. You know how I am--well, maybe you don’t know, but I’m accustomed to first-class accommodations, and I’m perfectly willing to pay a reasonable price. I got into Chicago late the other night, and the Rippleton’s near the station-- I’d never been there before, but I says to the taxi-driver-- I always believe in taking a taxi when you get in late; may cost a little more money, but, gosh, it’s worth it when you got to be up early next morning and out selling a lot of crabs--and I said to him, ‘Oh, just drive me over to the Rippleton.’ “Well, we got there, and I breezed up to the desk and said to the clerk, ‘Well, brother, got a nice room with bath for Cousin Bill?’ Saaaay! You’d ’a’ thought I’d sold him a second, or asked him to work on Yom Kippur! He hands me the cold-boiled stare and yaps, ‘I dunno, friend, I’ll see,’ and he ducks behind the rigamajig they keep track of the rooms on. Well, I guess he called up the Credit Association and the American Security League to see if I was all right--he certainly took long enough--or maybe he just went to sleep; but finally he comes out and looks at me like it hurts him, and croaks, ‘I think I can let you have a room with bath.’ ‘Well, that’s awful nice of you--sorry to trouble you--how much’ll it set me back?’ I says, real sweet. ‘It’ll cost you seven bucks a day, friend,’ he says.