American fiction -- 19th century; California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories; Western stories
“We have an application for a suite of rooms next week,” she said,
referring to the letter, “and as we shall be rather full, father thought
you gentlemen might be willing to take another larger room for your
meetings, and give up these, which are part of a suite--and perhaps not
exactly suitable”--
“Quite impossible!” “Quite so!” “Really out of the question,” said the
members, in a rapid chorus.
The young girl was evidently taken aback at this unanimity of
opposition. She stared at them curiously, and then glanced around the
room. “We're quite comfortable here,” said the president explanatorily,
“and--in fact--it's just what we want.”
“We could give you a closet like that which you could lock up, and a
mirror,” she suggested, with the faintest trace of a smile.
“Tell your father, Miss Marsh,” said the president, with dignified
politeness, “that while we cannot submit to any change, we fully
appreciate his business foresight, and are quite prepared to see that
the hotel is properly compensated for our retaining these rooms.” As the
young girl withdrew with a puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed his
back against it, and said,--
“What the deuce did she mean by speaking of that closet?”
“Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy drinks in there,” said Trigg;
“and calkilated that we wanted the marble stand and mirror to put our
glasses on and make it look like a swell private bar, that's all!”
“Humph,” said the president.
Their next meeting, however, was a hurried one, and as the president
arrived late, when the door closed smartly behind him he was met by the
worried faces of his colleagues.
“Here's a go!” said Trigg excitedly, producing a folded paper. “The
game's up, the hull show is busted; that cussed old statue--the reg'lar
old hag herself--is on her way here! There's a bill o' lading and the
express company's letter, and she'll be trundled down here by express at
any moment.”
“Well?” said the president quietly.
“Well!” replied the members aghast. “Do you know what that means?”
“That we must rig her up in the hall on a pedestal, as we reckoned to
do,” returned the president coolly.
“But you don't sabe,” said Clinton Grey; “that's all very well as to the
hag, but now we must give HER up,” with an adoring glance towards the
closet.
“Does the letter say so?”
“No,” said Trigg hesitatingly, “no! But I reckon we can't keep BOTH.”
“Why not?” said the president imperturbably, “if we paid for 'em?”
As the men only stared in reply he condescended to explain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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