He
put down no tip at all. He lifted his family from the table with
a yank of the eyes and snapped at the waiter:
"I'll soon find out who's tryin' to stick me.--you or the
proprietor."
The old man stalked out, followed by his fat ewe and their ewe lamb.
Adna's very toothpick was like a small bayonet.
His wife and daughter hung back to avoid being spattered with the gore
of the unfortunate hotel clerk. The morning trains were unloading
their mobs, and it was difficult to reach the desk at all.
When finally Adna got to the bar he had lost some of his running
start. With somewhat weakly anger he said to the first clerk
he reached:
"Looky here! I registered here last night, and another young feller
was here said the two rooms would be twelve dollars."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, they sent me up to roost on a cloud, but I didn't kick. Now
they're tryin' to charge me for meals extry. Don't that twelve dollars
include meals?"
"Oh no, sir. The hotel is on the European plan."
Adna took the shock bravely but bitterly: "Well, all I got to say is
the Europeans got mighty poor plans. I kind of suspicioned there was
a ketch in it somewheres. After this we'll eat outside, and at the
end of the week we'll take our custom somewheres else. Maybe there
was a joke in that twelve dollars a week for the rooms, too."
"Twelve dollars a week! Oh no, sir; the charge is by the day."
Adna's knees seemed to turn to sand and run down into his shoes.
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