JOHN HENRY AND THE HOTEL CLERK.
Kee Barclay, Jim Wilkinson and I were leaning over the counter talking to His Nobs, the Hotel Clerk, when Dan the Dyspeptic squeezed up and began to let a peep out of him about the pie he had eaten for dinner.
"Calm yourself!" said Smiling Steve, "and tell me where it bit you."
Steve has been throwing keys at the wall for some time, and he knows how to burn the beefers.
"Bit me! bit me!" snarled the old chap; "nothing of the kind, sir! I want you to know, sir, that your pie isn't fit to eat, sir!"
"Cut it out!" suggested Steve.
"Cut it out, sir! how can I cut it out when I've eaten it, sir? It's an outrage and I shall leave this hotel to-morrow," said Dan.
"With the exception of $31.72, balance due, that will be about all from you!" said Steve.
"I'll see the proprietor," said the old fellow, moving away with a face on him like an interrupted beef stew.
"We get it good and plenty every day," said Steve, and just then Skate Peters grabbed the book and burned his John Hancock on it.
"'We get it good and plenty every day!' said Steve."
I knew his name was Skate because it looked like one on the register.
"Bath?" queried Steve.
"Only during a hot wave," said Skate.
Steve went to the ropes, but he came up smiling, as usual.
"American or European?" asked Steve.
"Neither," said Skate; "Don't you see I'm from Jersey City."
"Going to be with us long?" inquired Steve.
"Say, Bub! you're hellanall on asking questions, now aint you?" answered Skate; "you just push me into a stall and lock the gate—I'm tired."
"Front! show this gentleman to 49!" said Skate, side-stepping to avoid punishment.
Then Sweet William, the Boy Drummer, hopped into the ring for the next round.
Willie peddles pickles for the fun he gets of it.
It is Willie's joy and delight to get a ginger ale bun on and recite "'Ostler Joe."
When trained down to 95 flat Willie can get up and beat the clapper off "Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night."
When Willie gets a strangle hold on "Sheridan's Ride" you can hear horses galloping outside.
It's the rest of the community getting out of harm's way.
"Any mail?" inquired Willie.
All the mail that Willie ever gets is a postal card from the pickle factory every two weeks asking him if the people along his route have all lost their appetites.
"No literature for you," Steve answered.
"Strange," said Willie, "my lady friends are very remiss, aren't they?"
"Yes; it looks like they were out to drop you behind the piano," said Steve.
Willie tore off a short rabbit laugh and then inquired what time the next train left for New York.
The pickle factory expects Willie to make Pocomoke City, Squashtown Junction and Nubbinsville before next Sunday, so he tossed the train gag out just to show Steve that he knows there's a place called New York.
"At 7.45 over the D. L. & Q," said Steve.
"What's the next?" inquired Willie.
"At 8.10 over the H. B. & N.," Steve answered.
"Which gets there first?" Willie asked.
"The engineer," sighed Steve.
"Oh, you droll chap!" said the pickle pusher; "give me some toothpicks."
Then Sweet William went over to the big window, burrowed into a chair, stuck his feet up on the brass rail, ate toothpicks and thought he was IT.
When I got back to Steve he was dealing out the cards to a lady from Reading, Pa., and Kee and Jim had ducked to the billiard room.
Her husband had been up in the air with a bum automobile and when he came down he was several sections shy.
They found a monkey wrench imbedded in his left shoulder which he couldn't remember using when he tried to fix the machine.
She was traveling for his health.
"My room is too near the elevator," she informed Steve.
"I can give you a very nice room on the third floor—Front! show the lady——"
"Same size room?"
"Yes, Madam."
"Same colored carpet on the floor?"
"I believe it has—Front! show the lady——"
"Southern exposure?"
"Yes, Madam, it's at the end of the hall."
"I want a room near the elevator, that's always the way in these hotels! One can never get just what one wants! At the end of the hall, indeed!" And with this she gave Steve the Society sting with both eyes and flounced out.
Steve bit the end off a pen holder and said the rest internally.
Just then a couple of troupers trailed in.
They were with the "Bandit's Bride Co.," and the way had been long and weary.
"What have you got—double?" asked the villain of the piece.
"Two dollars and up!" said Steve.
"Nothing better?" inquired Low Comedy—he was making a crack but nobody caught him.
"Four dollars, with bath," Steve suggested.
"Board?" asked the villain.
"Nothing but the sleeps and a fresh cake of soap," said Steve.
"Ring down!" Low Comedy put in; "Why, we lived a whole week in Pittsburg for less than that."
"You can turn the same trick here if you carry your own coke and sleep in the Park," said Steve.
"What's the name of this mint?" asked the villain.
Steve told him.
"To the tow-path!" said Barrett Macready; "we're outside the life lines. We thought it was the Liverwurst Hotel where they throw things at your appetite for $1 a day, double. To the left, wheel! Forward, march!" and once more the drama was on its way.
As Low Comedy turned proudly on his heel he threw upon the counter a printed card.
Steve had it framed and glued to the wall next day.
It read as follows.
HOTEL RULES—HELP YOURSELF.
RULE 1.—We cash no checks drawn on Papa. He's a dead one.
RULE 2.—Eat all our booze you want to, but go elsewhere and select your snakes.
RULE 3.—Don't call the waitress by her first name. She's liable to spoil your appetite.
RULE 4.—Guests who desire to have nightmare will find the harness in the restaurant, so back up!
RULE 5.—To prevent guests from carrying fruit from the table we'll have no fruit. We're lucky to have the table.
RULE 6.—If you feel tired, go away back and sit down.
RULE 7.—In case of fire jump out the window and turn to the left.
RULE 8.—Breakfast from 4 to 3; dinner from hand to mouth, and supper from what's left over.
RULE 9.—Hug as many high-balls as you please, but don't wave the red flag in the office—you might disturb Harold Spotwood, the room clerk. He was out late last night.
RULE 10.—If you don't like your room, kick the bell-boy. Apply at the office for spiked shoes.
RULE 11.—If you don't see what you want ask for it and you'll get it—good and hard!
RULE 12.—Ask the bar-keeper to let you have one of our justly celebrated high tides. It will do you good.
RULE 13.—Try our boneless potato salad; apply to the night watchman.
RULE 14.—All the shines are not in the barber shop. Lie down, Fido.
RULE 15.—That will be about all from you.