“Oh! you Dixie boys are all alike—nothing can ever wean you from your love for cotton fields, tobacco plantations, sugarcane brakes, and all such typical things of the South; but I like to hear you talk that way, Wally; it’s in the blood, and can’t be eradicated.”
“Yes suh, that’s what I reckon it shore is,” and Perk relapsed into silence, possibly to ponder over that last word of Jack’s, and try to get its true meaning.
He was soon deeply interested in what he saw, for Charleston is full of wonderful sights, to Northern eyes at least—fully on a par with quaint New Orleans, and Mobile—the iron lattices fronting many old-fashioned houses with double galleries—the churches that date back two hundred years at least, with their burial grounds filled with dingy looking stones and monuments, on which could be found chiseled numerous famous names of families connected with the history of this typical sub-tropical city—and occasional glimpses could be caught of that wonderful bay which is Charleston’s pride and boast.
At the hotel they were speedily ensconced in a double room that boasted two beds—Jack usually looked to having things arranged that way when feasible, as Perk was a nervous sleeper, and apt to fling his arm across the face of any one alongside. It also afforded them a splendid view from the windows.
“I shore do hope, partner, you’re reckonin’ on aour havin’ some fodder ’fore we tackle any business; ’case my tummy it’s agrowlin’ somethin’ fierce; so I jest caint hold aout much longer an’ feel peaceable—have a heart, buddy, fo’ a guy what was born hungry, and gets thataway five times every day.”
“That’s all right, Perk,” he was told, with a smile; “here are our bags, and we can fix up a bit, for I feel that a bath would do me a heap of good. Suppose we get busy, and by the time we look civilized again it will be twelve, which you remember the clerk told us was when the doors of the diningroom were thrown open.”
“Gee! I only hope I kin hold aout till then,” lamented poor Perk; “when I lamped the window display o’ a boss restaurant while we come along I had a yen to jump aout, an’ duck into the same, things looked so tantalizin’ like.”
“I can understand that yearning of yours, brother; but the sooner we get busy the quicker we’ll be sitting down with our knees under a table, and ordering a full dinner for two. Go to it then, while I take a warm dip.”
The agony ended eventually, and as it was then a quarter after twelve they decided to go down to the lobby, and partake of the fare which had been cracked up to them as especially fine, as well as indicative of typical Southern cooking—Perk kept harping on that same string until Jack whispered to him he must not overdo the matter.
Apparently they found everything to their liking, for they remained in the diningroom almost a full hour; and when they came out Perk was breathing unusually hard, like a person who has done heroic duty in an effort to show the hotel chef he appreciated his culinary arts.