“Sounds reasonable,” says I. “But I guess maybe we kin edge around and find out without askin’ straight out,” says he. “I hain’t much good at edgin’,” says I. “You do it.” “Come on, then,” says he, and we went into the hotel office and stood around like we just come in for nothing in particular, and sort of gradual we got over to the desk. “Nice mornin’,” says Catty to the clerk. “Fine,” says the clerk, sort of grinnin’. “Was you lookin’ for a room with a bath?” “Us!” says Catty, surprised-like. “Jest a room with a bath? That the best you got? Huh!... When we stay in a hotel it hain’t no measly room with a bath we take. No, sirree! We git a whole mess of rooms and baths, maybe three or four bedrooms, so’s when we git tired of sleepin’ in one we kin take to another; and we have settin’-rooms and standin’-rooms and, in hotels where we don’t like the cookin’, we have our own kitchen. That’s us, mister. Now what you got that might suit us?” “We’re just out of kitchens,” says the clerk. “Usually we keep eighteen or twenty extry kitchens up-stairs for p’tic’lar guests, so’s they kin boil their own eggs soft. But they’re occupied now. Best we kin let you have is a parlor with two bedrooms off’n it—and a piece of the hall if that hain’t enough. All our regular palatial suites is rented.” “Who to?” says Catty. “There’s a large party of folks by the name of Mr. Kinderhook that’s taken ’em,” says the clerk. “He’s usin’ more room to sleep in than a whole minstrel troupe.” “I heard he took a lot of rooms,” says Catty. “Must cost him a sight of money.” “Guess he’s got it to spend.” “Um!... Wonder he didn’t buy him a hotel,” says Catty, “and fix it up to suit him.” “Say,” said the clerk, “I calc’late he’s goin’ to. I heard him talkin’ it up last night. Says, says he, that this town, with its new manufacturin’ industries, ought to have a fine hotel. Yes, sir, and says he, he guessed maybe he’d build one as soon as the factory was done and runnin’. I’ve struck him for the job of clerkin’.” “Hope you git it. When’s he goin’ to git out of them rooms?” “Dunno.” “Soon’s he does we’ll take ’em,” says Catty, “if you’ll fix ’em up a bit. Maybe we won’t like the furniture.” “We aim to please. All you got to do is tell us what you want.” “First,” says Catty, “you’ll have to fetch ’em a flight down-stairs. I’m gittin’ so’s I hate to climb stairs. Fetch ’em down to the second floor.” “That’s where they be now,” says the clerk. “And we like our rooms lookin’ right over Main Street, and not to the side over nobody’s meat-market.” “What give you the idee Kinderhook’s rooms was on the side? Not them; they’re front corner rooms. Parlor in the corner, big one, and other rooms along the front.” “That’s all right, then,” says Catty. “Don’t s’pose we kin take a look at the furniture, so’s if we don’t like it you kin be orderin’ in what we want?”