“No. It’s Perryville, New York,” replied Ned, taking a name at random, as he had the one he signed in the book.
The clerk told him to write it down, and after this was done the number 113 was placed after his name.
“Hope you’re not superstitious,” the clerk remarked.
“Why?” asked Ned.
“There’s a thirteen in your room number.”
“I don’t mind that.”
“Some folks do,” the clerk continued. “But that’s the only dollar room we’ve got left. Front!”
A boy answered the ring of the bell which the clerk touched, and, taking Ned’s grip led the way. A rattling, shaking elevator, of an antiquated type, carried Ned and his guide to the fifth floor. The young porter opened the door of a small room and set Ned’s grip down inside of it.
“Here’s where you bunk,” he remarked.
Ned had read of the necessity for tips in New York, and handed the boy a dime. The lad seemed to welcome it.