He ast me if I had a reservation and I told him no.
“Can’t do nothing for you then,” he says. “Not till tomorrow morning anyway.”
So I went back to the ladies.
“We’ll have to go somewheres else,” I said. “This joint’s a joint. They won’t give us nothing till tomorrow.”
“But we can’t go nowheres else,” said the Mrs. “What would Mr. Griffin think, after recommending us to come here?”
“Well,” I said, “if you think I’m going to park myself in a four-post chair all night just because we got a tip on a hotel from Wall Street you’re Queen of the Cuckoos.”
“Are you sure they haven’t anything at all?” she says.
“Go ask them yourself!” I told her.
Well, she did, and in about ten minutes she come back and said everything was fixed.
“They’ll give us a single room with bath and a double room with bath for fifteen dollars a day,” she said.
“ ‘Give us’ is good!” said I.
“I told him we’d wired for reservations and it wasn’t our fault if the wire didn’t get here,” she said. “He was awfully nice.”
Our rooms was right close to each other on the twenty-first floor. On the way up we decided by two votes to one that we’d dress for dinner. I was still monkeying with my tie when Katie come in for Ella to look her over. She had on the riskiest dress she’d bought in Chi.
“It’s a pretty dress,” she said, “but I’m afraid maybe it’s too daring for just a hotel dining room.”
Say, we hadn’t no sooner than set down in the hotel dining room when two other gals come in that made my team look like they was dressed for a sleigh ride with Doc Cook.
“I guess you don’t feel so daring now,” I said. “Compared to that baby in black you’re wearing Jess Willard’s ulster.”
“Do you know what that black gown cost?” said Ella. “Not a cent under seven hundred dollars.”
“That would make the material twenty-one hundred dollars a yard,” I says.
“I’d like to know where she got it,” said Katie.
“Maybe she cut up an old stocking,” said I.
“I wished now,” said the Mrs., “that we’d waited till we got here before we bought our clothes.”
“You can bet one thing,” says Katie. “Before we’re ast out anywheres on a real party we’ll have something to wear that isn’t a year old.”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” says the Mrs., “we’ll go over on Fifth Avenue and see what we can see.”
“They’ll only be two on that excursion,” I says.
“Oh, we don’t want you along,” said Ella. “But I do wished you’d go to some first-class men’s store and get some ties and shirts and things that don’t look like an embalmer.”
Well, after a wile one of the waiters got it in his head that maybe we hadn’t came in to take a bath, so he fetched over a couple of programs.
“Never mind them,” I says. “What’s ready? We’re in a hurry.”
“The Long Island Duckling’s very nice,” he said. “And how about some nice au gratin potatoes and some nice lettuce and tomato salad with Thousand Island dressing, and maybe some nice French pastry?”
“Everything seems to be nice here,” I said. “But wait a minute. How about something to drink?”
He give me a mysterious smile.
“Well,” he said, “they’re watching us pretty close here, but we serve something we call a cup. It comes from the bar and we’re not supposed to know what the bartender puts in it.”
“We’ll try and find out,” I said. “And rush this order through, as we’re starved.”
So he frisked out and was back again in less than an hour with another guy to help carry the stuff, though Lord knows he could of parked the three ducklings on one eyelid and the whole meal on the back of his hand. As for the cup, when you tasted it they wasn’t no big mystery about what the bartender had put in it—a bottle of seltzer and a prune and a cherry and an orange peel, and maybe his finger. The check come to eighteen dollars and Ella made me tip him the rest of a twenty.
Before dinner the gals had been all for staying up a wile and looking the crowd over, but when we was through they both owned up that they hadn’t slept much on the train and was ready for bed.
Ella and Kate was up early in the morning. They had their breakfast without me and went over to stun Fifth Avenue. About ten o’clock Francis phoned to say he’d call round for us that evening and take us to dinner. The gals didn’t get back till late in the afternoon, but from one o’clock on I was too busy signing for packages to get lonesome. Ella finally staggered in with some more and I told her about our invitation.
“Yes, I know,” she said.
“How do you know?” I ast her.
“He told us,” she said. “We had to call him up to get a check cashed.”
“You got plenty nerve!” I said. “How does he know your checks is good?”
“Well, he likes us,” she said. “You’ll like us too when you see us in some of the gowns we bought.”
“Some!” I said.
“Why, yes,” said the Mrs. “You don’t think a girl can go round in New York with one evening dress!”
“How much money did you spend today?” I ast her.
“Well,” she said, “things are terribly high—that is, nice things. And then, of course, there’s suits and hats and things besides the gowns. But remember, it’s our money. And as I told you, it’s an investment. When young Mister Wall Street sees Kate tonight it’ll be all off.”
“I didn’t call on you for no speech,” I says. “I ast you how much you spent.”
“Not quite sixteen hundred dollars.”
I was still out on my feet when the phone rung. Ella answered it and then told me it was all
