Thropp, wife and daughter, Nimrim, Mo.
The room clerk read the name as if it were that of a potentate whose
incognito he would respect, and murmured:
"About what accommodation would you want, Mr. Thropp?"
"Two rooms--one for the wife and m'self, one for the daughter."
"Yes, sir. And about how much would you want to pay?"
"How do they run?"
"We can give you two nice adjoining rooms for twelve dollars--up."
Mr. Thropp made a hasty calculation. Twelve dollars a week for board
and lodging was not so bad. He nodded.
The room clerk marked down a number and slid a key to the page,
who gathered the family treasures together. Kedzie had more or less
helplessly recognized the page's admiration of her when he first
took the things from the porter. The sense of her beauty had choked
the boy's amusement at her parents.
Later Kedzie caught the glance of the room clerk and saw that she
startled him and cheated him of his smile at Adna. Still later
the elevator-boy gave her one respectful look of approval. Kedzie's
New York stir was already beginning.
The page ushered the Thropps into the elevator, and said,
"Nineteen."
It was the number of the floor, not the room. Adna warned his women
folk that "she" was about to go up, but they were not prepared for
that swift vertical leap toward the clouds. Another floor, and
Mrs. Thropp would have screamed. The altitude affected her.
Then the thing stopped, and the boy led them down a corridor so long
that Adna said, "Looks like we'd be stranded a hundred miles from
nowheres.
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