"Do you know what we're payin' for that room?" I says. "We're payin'
seventeen dollars."
"Well," she says, "our meals is throwed in."
"Yes," says I, "and the hotel furnishes a key."
"You promised in St. Augustine," she says, "that you wouldn't worry no
more about expenses."
Well, rather than make a scene in front o' the bellhops and the few
millionaires that was able to be about at that hour o' the mornin', I
just says "All right!" and led her into the dinin'-room.
The head waiter met us at the door and turned us over to his assistant.
Then some more assistants took hold of us one at a time and we was
relayed to a beautiful spot next door to the kitchen and bounded on all
sides by posts and pillars. It was all right for me, but a whole lot too
private for the Missus; so I had to call the fella that had been our
pacemaker on the last lap.
"We don't like this table," I says.
"It's the only one I can give you," he says.