Before breakfast, Claire darted down to the hotel yard. She beamed at

Milt, who was lacing a rawhide patch on a tire, before she remembered

that they were not on speaking terms. They both looked extremely

sheepish and young. It was Pinky Parrott who was the social lubricant.

Pinky was always on speaking terms with everybody. "Ah, here she is! The

little lady of the mutinous eyes! Our colonel of the flivver hussars!"

But he got no credit. Milt straightened up and lumbered, "Hel-lo!"

She peeped at him and whispered, "Hel-lo!"

"Say, oh please, Claire---- I didn't mean----"

"Oh, I know! Let's--let's go have breakfast."

"Was awfully afraid you'd think we were fresh, but when we came in last

night, and saw your car--didn't like the looks of the hotel much, and

thought we'd stick around."

"I'm so glad. Oh, Milt--yes, and you, Mr. Parrott--will you

whip--lick--beat up--however you want to say it--somebody for me?"

With one glad communal smile Milt and Pinky curved up their wrists and

made motions as of pulling up their sleeves.

"But not unless I say so. I want to be a Citizeness Fixit. I've been

good for so long. But now----"

"Show him to me!" and "Up, lads, and atum!" responded her squad.

"Not till after breakfast."

It was a sufficiently vile breakfast, at the Tavern. The feature was

curious cakes whose interior was raw creepy dough. A dozen skilled

workmen were at the same long table with Claire, Milt, Pinky, and Mr.

Boltwood--the last two of whom were polite and scenically descriptive to

each other, but portentously silent about gold-mines. The landlady and a

slavey waited on table; the landlord could be seen loafing in the

kitchen.

Toward the end of the meal Claire insultingly crooked her finger at the

landlady and said, "Come here, woman."

The landlady stared, then ignored her.

"Very well. Then I'll say it publicly!" Claire swept the workmen with an

affectionate smile. "Gentlemen of Pellago, I want you to know from one

of the poor tourists who have been cheated at this nasty place that we

depend on you to do something. This woman and her husband are criminals,

in the way they overcharge for hideous food and----"

The landlady had been petrified. Now she charged down. Behind her came

her husband. Milt arose. The husband stopped. But it was Pinky who faced

the landlady, tapped her shoulder, and launched into, "And what's more,

you hag, if our new friends here have any sense, they'll run you out of

town."

That was only the beginning of Pinky's paper on corrections and

charities. He enjoyed himself. Before he finished, the landlady was

crying ... she voluntarily promised to give her boarders waffles, some

morning, jus' soon as she could find the waffle-iron.

With her guard about her, at the office desk, Claire paid one dollar

apiece for the rooms, and discussion was not.




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