THE ALLEGHANY HOUSE.
It was a bright, sunny morning when the _River Belle_ touched her pier
at Cincinnati. The passengers gathered on deck, and discussed their
plans. In one group were Tom, Mr. Waterbury, Jennie Watson, and her
mother.
"I am sorry you are going to leave us, Tom," said Jennie; "I shall feel
awfully lonely."
"So shall I," said Tom.
"What's the use of going to that hateful California? Why can't you stay
here with us?"
"Business before pleasure, Jennie," said her mother. "You mustn't forget
that Tom has his fortune to make."
"I wish he could make it in Cincinnati, mother."
"So do I; but I must admit that California presents a better prospect
just at present. You are both young, and I hope we may meet Tom in after
years."
"When I have made my pile," suggested Tom.
"Precisely."
"You won't go right on, Tom, will you?" asked Jennie. "You'll stay here
a day or two."
"Yes; I should like to see something of Cincinnati."
"And you'll call on us?"
"I shall be very happy to do so. Where are you going to stay?"
"At the Burnet House. Won't you come there, too?"
"Is it a high-priced hotel?"
"I believe it is."
"Then I can't afford to stay there; but I can call on you all the same."
"Stay there as my guest, Tom," said Mr. Waterbury cordially. "It shall
not cost you anything."
"Thank you, sir. You are very kind, but I don't like to accept
unnecessary favors. I will put up at some cheap hotel, and call upon you
both."
"You would be heartily welcome, my boy," said Mr. Waterbury.
"I don't doubt it, sir, and the time may come when I will gladly accept
your kindness," replied Tom.
"But now you mean to have your own way; is that it, Tom."
"You won't be offended, sir?"
"On the contrary, I respect you for your manly independence. You won't
forget that I am your friend?"
"I don't want to forget that, sir."
So it happened that while Mrs. Watson, Jennie, and Mr. Waterbury
registered at the Burnet House, Tom, carpetbag in hand, walked through
the streets till he came to a plain inn, bearing the name Alleghany
House. It is not now in existence, having given way to an imposing
business block.
"That looks as if it might suit my purse," thought Tom.
He walked in, and, approaching the desk, inquired: "How much do you
charge at this hotel?"
"A dollar a day," answered the clerk. "Will you have a room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please register your name." Tom did so.
"Cato," called the clerk--summoning a colored boy, about Tom's
size--"take this young man to No. 18."
"All right, sar," said Cato, showing his ivories.
"When do you have dinner?" asked Tom.
"One o'clock."
Preceded by Cato, Tom walked up-stairs, and was ushered into a small,
dingy room on the second floor. There was a single window, looking
through dingy panes upon a back yard. There was a general air of
cheerlessness and discomfort, but at any rate it was larger than the
stateroom on the _River Belle_.
"Is this the best room you have?" asked Tom, not very favorably
impressed.
"Oh, no, sar," answered Cato. "If your wife was with you, sar, we'd give
you a scrumptious room, 'bout twice as big."
"I didn't bring my wife along, Cato," said Tom, amused. "Are you
married?"
"Not yet, sar," answered his colored guide, with a grin.
"I think we can wait till we are a little older."
"Reckon so, sar."
"Just bring up a little water, Cato. I feel in need of washing."
"Dirt don't show on me," said Cato, with a guffaw.
"I suppose you do wash, now and then, don't you?"
"Yes, sar, sometimes," answered Cato equivocally.
When Tom had completed his toilet he found that it was but ten o'clock.
He accordingly went down-stairs, intending to see a little of the city
before dinner.