III
We'd wired ahead for rooms at the Alcazar, and when we landed in St. Augustine they was a motor-bus from the hotel to meet us at the station.
"Southern hospitality," I says to the Wife, and we was both pleased till they relieved us o' four bits apiece for the ride.
Well, they hadn't neither one of us slept good the night before, w'ile we was joltin' through Georgia; so when I suggested a nap they wasn't no argument.
"But our clo'es ought to be pressed," says the Missus. "Call up the valet and have it done w'ile we sleep."
So I called up the valet, and sure enough, he come.
"Hello, George!" I says. "You see, we're goin' to lay down and take a nap, and we was wonderin' if you could crease up these two suits and have 'em back here by the time we want 'em."
"Certainly, sir," says he.
"And how much will it cost?" I ast him.
"One dollar a suit," he says.
"Are you on parole or haven't you never been caught?" says I.
"Yes, sir," he says, and smiled like it was a joke.
"Let's talk business, George," I says. "The tailor we go to on Sixty-third walks two blocks to get our clo'es, and two blocks to take 'em to his joint, and two blocks to bring 'em back, and he only soaks us thirty-five cents a suit."
"He gets poor pay and he does poor work," says the burglar. "When I press clo'es I press 'em right."
"Well," I says, "the tailor on Sixty-third satisfies us. Suppose you don't do your best this time, but just give us seventy cents' worth."
But they wasn't no chance for a bargain. He'd been in the business so long he'd become hardened and lost all regard for his fellow men.
The Missus slept, but I didn't. Instead, I done a few problems in arithmetic. Outside o' what she'd gave up for postcards and stamps in Jacksonville, I'd spent two bucks for our lunch, about two more for my shave and my refreshments, one for a rough ride in a bus, one more for gettin' our trunk and grips carried round, two for havin' the clo'es pressed, and about half a buck in tips to people that I wouldn't never see again. Somewheres near nine dollars a day, not countin' no hotel bill, and over two weeks of it yet to come!
Oh, you rummy game at home, at half a cent a point!
When our clo'es come back I woke her up and give her the figures.
"But to-day's an exception," she says. "After this our meals will be included in the hotel bill and we won't need to get our suits pressed only once a week and you'll be shavin' yourself and they won't be no bus fare when we're stayin' in one place. Besides, we can practise economy all spring and all summer."
"I guess we need the practise," I says.
"And if you're goin' to crab all the time about expenses," says she, "I'll wish we had of stayed home."
"That'll make it unanimous," says I.
Then she begin sobbin' about how I'd spoiled the trip and I had to promise I wouldn't think no more o' what we were spendin'. I might just as well of promised to not worry when the White Sox lost or when I'd forgot to come home to supper.
We went in the dinin'-room about six-thirty and was showed to a table where they was another couple settin'. They was husband and wife, I guess, but I don't know which was which. She was wieldin' the pencil and writin' down their order.
"I guess I'll have clams," he says.
"They disagreed with you last night," says she.
"All right," he says. "I won't try 'em. Give me cream-o'-tomato soup."
"You don't like tomatoes," she says.
"Well, I won't have no soup," says he. "A little o' the blue-fish."
"The blue-fish wasn't no good at noon," she says. "You better try the bass."
"All right, make it bass," he says. "And them sweet-breads and a little roast beef and sweet potatoes and peas and vanilla ice-cream and coffee."
"You wouldn't touch sweet-breads at home," says she, "and you can't tell what they'll be in a hotel."
"All right, cut out the sweet-breads," he says.
"I should think you'd have the stewed chicken," she says, "and leave out the roast beef."
"Stewed chicken it is," says he.
"Stewed chicken and mashed potatoes and string beans and buttered toast and coffee. Will that suit you?"
"Sure!" he says, and she give the slip to the waiter.
George looked at it long enough to of read it three times if he could of read it once and then went out in the kitchen and got a trayful o' whatever was handy.
But the poor guy didn't get more'n a taste of anything. She was watchin' him like a hawk, and no sooner would he delve into one victual than she'd yank the dish away from him and tell him to remember that health was more important than temporary happiness. I felt so sorry for him that I couldn't enjoy my own repast and I told the Wife that we'd have our breakfast apart from that stricken soul if I had to carry the case to old Al Cazar himself.
In the evenin' we strolled acrost the street to the Ponce—that's supposed to be even sweller yet than where we were stoppin' at. We walked all over the place without recognizin' nobody from our set. I finally warned the Missus that if we didn't duck back to our room I'd probably have a heart attack from excitement; but she'd read in her Florida guide that the decorations and pitchers was worth goin' miles to see, so we had to stand in front o' them for a couple hours and try to keep awake. Four or five o' them was thrillers, at that. Their names was Adventure, Discovery, Contest, and so on, but what they all should of been called was Lady Who Had Mislaid Her Clo'es.
The hotel's named after the fella that built it. He come from Spain and they say he was huntin' for some water that if he'd drunk it he'd feel young. I don't see myself how you could expect to feel young on water. But, anyway, he'd heard that this here kind o' water could be found in St. Augustine, and when he couldn't find it he went into the hotel business and got even with the United States by chargin' five dollars a day and up for a room.
Sunday mornin' we went in to breakfast early and I ast the head waiter if we could set at another table where they wasn't no convalescent and his mate. At the same time I give the said head waiter somethin' that spoke louder than words. We was showed to a place way acrost the room from where we'd been the night before. It was a table for six, but the other four didn't come into our life till that night at supper.
Meanw'ile we went sight-seein'. We visited Fort Marion, that'd be a great protection against the Germans, provided they fought with paper wads. We seen the city gate and the cathedral and the slave market, and then we took the boat over to Anastasia Island, that the ocean's on the other side of it. This trip made me homesick, because the people that was along with us on the boat looked just like the ones we'd often went with to Michigan City on the Fourth o' July. The boat landed on the bay side o' the island and from there we was drug over to the ocean side on a horse car, the horse walkin' to one side o' the car instead of in front, so's he wouldn't get ran over.
We stuck on the beach till dinner-time and then took the chariot back to the pavilion on the bay side, where a whole family served the meal and their pigs put on a cabaret. It was the best meal I had in dear old Dixie—fresh oysters and chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and fish and pie. And they charged two bits a plate.
"Goodness gracious!" says the Missus, when I told her the price. "This is certainly reasonable. I wonder how it happens."
"Well," I says, "the family was probably washed up here by the tide and don't know they're in Florida."
When we got back to the hotel they was only just time to clean up and go down to supper. We hadn't no sooner got seated when our table companions breezed in. It was a man about forty-five, that looked like he'd made his money in express and general haulin', and he had his wife along and both their mother-in-laws. The shirt he had on was the one he'd started from home with, if he lived in Yokohama. His womenfolks wore mournin' with a touch o' gravy here and there.
"You order for us, Jake," says one o' the ladies.
So Jake grabbed the bill o' fare and his wife took the slip and pencil and waited for the dictation.
"Let's see," he says. "How about oyster cocktail?"
"Yes," says the three Mrs. Black.
"Four oyster cocktails, then," says Jake, "and four orders o' blue-points."
"The oysters is nice, too," says I.
They all give me a cordial smile and the ice was broke.
"Everything's good here," says Jake.
"I bet you know," I says.
He seemed pleased at the compliment and went on dictatin'.
"Four chicken soups with rice," he says, "and four o' the blue-fish and four veal chops breaded and four roast chicken and four boiled potatoes—"
But it seemed his wife would rather have sweet potatoes.
"All right," says Jake; "four boiled potatoes and four sweets. And chicken salad and some o' that tapioca puddin' and ice-cream and tea. Is that satisfactory?"
"Fine!" says one o' the mother-in-laws.
"Are you goin' to stay long?" says Mrs. Jake to my Missus.
The party addressed didn't look very clubby, but she was too polite to pull the cut direct.
"We leave to-morrow night," she says.
Nobody ast her where we was goin'.
"We leave for Palm Beach," she says.
"That's a nice place, I guess," says one o' the old ones. "More people goes there than comes here. It ain't so expensive there, I guess."
"You're some guesser," says the Missus and freezes up.
I ast Jake if he'd been to Florida before.
"No," he says; "this is our first trip, but we're makin' up for lost time. We're seein' all they is to see and havin' everything the best."
"You're havin' everything, all right," I says, "but I don't know if it's the best or not. How long have you been here?"
"A week to-morrow," says he. "And we stay another week and then go to Ormond."
"Are you standin' the trip O. K.?" I ast him.
"Well," he says, "I don't feel quite as good as when we first come."
"Kind o' logy?" I says.
"Yes; kind o' heavy," says Jake.
"I know what you ought to do," says I. "You ought to go to a European plan hotel."
"Not w'ile this war's on," he says, "and besides, my mother's a poor sailor."
"Yes," says his mother; "I'm a very poor sailor."
"Jake's mother can't stand the water," says Mrs. Jake.
So I begun to believe that Jake's wife's mother-in-law was a total failure as a jolly tar.
Social intercourse was put an end to when the waiter staggered in with their order and our'n. The Missus seemed to of lost her appetite and just set there lookin' grouchy and tappin' her fingers on the table-cloth and actin' like she was in a hurry to get away. I didn't eat much, neither. It was more fun watchin'.
"Well," I says, when we was out in the lobby, "we finally got acquainted with some real people."
"Real people!" says the Missus, curlin' her lip. "What did you talk to 'em for?"
"I couldn't resist," I says. "Anybody that'd order four oyster cocktails and four rounds o' blue-points is worth knowin'."
"Well," she says, "if they're there when we go in to-morrow mornin' we'll get our table changed again or you can eat with 'em alone."
But they was absent from the breakfast board.
"They're probably stayin' in bed to-day to get their clo'es washed," says the Missus.
"Or maybe they're sick," I says. "A change of oysters affects some people."
I was for goin' over to the island again and gettin' another o' them quarter banquets, but the program was for us to walk round town all mornin' and take a ride in the afternoon.
First, we went to St. George Street and visited the oldest house in the United States. Then we went to Hospital Street and seen the oldest house in the United States. Then we turned the corner and went down St. Francis Street and inspected the oldest house in the United States. Then we dropped into a soda fountain and I had an egg phosphate, made from the oldest egg in the Western Hemisphere. We passed up lunch and got into a carriage drawn by the oldest horse in Florida, and we rode through the country all afternoon and the driver told us some o' the oldest jokes in the book. He felt it was only fair to give his customers a good time when he was chargin' a dollar an hour, and he had his gags rehearsed so's he could tell the same one a thousand times and never change a word. And the horse knowed where the point come in every one and stopped to laugh.
We done our packin' before supper, and by the time we got to our table Jake and the mourners was through and gone. We didn't have to ask the waiter if they'd been there. He was perspirin' like an evangelist.
After supper we said good-by to the night clerk and twenty-two bucks. Then we bought ourself another ride in the motor-bus and landed at the station ten minutes before train-time; so we only had an hour to wait for the train.
Say, I don't know how many stations they is between New York and San Francisco, but they's twice as many between St. Augustine and Palm Beach. And our train stopped twice and started twice at every one. I give up tryin' to sleep and looked out the window, amusin' myself by readin' the names o' the different stops. The only one that expressed my sentiments was Eau Gallie. We was an hour and a half late pullin' out o' that joint and I figured we'd be two hours to the bad gettin' into our destination. But the guy that made out the time-table must of had the engineer down pat, because when we went acrost the bridge over Lake Worth and landed at the Poinciana depot, we was ten minutes ahead o' time.
They was about two dozen uniformed Ephs on the job to meet us. And when I seen 'em all grab for our baggage with one hand and hold the other out, face up, I knowed why they called it Palm Beach.