Miss Dividends: A Novel

by Archibald Clavering Gunter

Then, perceiving that Erma is hesitating and looking towards the car from which Ferdie and Louise are just appearing, and which still conceals Mrs. Livingston and her son, he says hurriedly: "Quick; I'll reserve a table for your party and get them a first chance at the meal. Come at once if you want your supper!"

"Of course I want my supper," cries Miss Travenion with a laugh; for the brisk Nebraska air, which is quite often cool toward evening, in October, has stimulated the young lady's appetite, which, like that of most healthy girls of her age, is generally a good one.

So the young lady, placing her hand upon his arm and followed by her maid, turns away from the crowd and is led to a side door, Lawrence seeming to know the by-ways of the hotel pretty well.

In front of this are lounging the station master and two or three railroad employees. These spring up with ejaculations of welcome and delight! One cries, "God bless you, Cap!" and another, "Harry, you're doing well." A third guffaws sotto voce, "You bet he is."

Returning their salutes, he says shortly, "Please let me in at the side door—before the rush. This young lady is hungry." A moment after they are in the dining-room of the railroad hotel before the crowd of passengers have entered by the main portal.

This is a large apartment filled with tables, each of which will accommodate six people, and each presided over and waited upon by a brisk moving, calico-clothed Nebraska maiden.

A moment after, Erma's escort says to a bright-eyed prairie-girl who is flourishing a feather duster to keep the flies off an as yet unoccupied table: "Sally, reserve this table for myself and party."

Then to Miss Travenion's astonishment the maid answers, giving him a look of open-eyed admiration, "Yes, Cap!"

The next instant she finds herself seated beside him, and her maid, under his direction, taken to another table and made comfortable by another brisk Nebraska girl, who also answers deferentially, "Yes, Cap!" Then the one employed at their table calmly but uncompromisingly waves off both flies and passengers from the tempting seats with her feather duster, remarking, "This 'ere table's engaged! This 'ere table's engaged," to applying drummers and hungry cattlemen who would make a raid upon the precious vacant chairs; for all the other seats in the room are by this time in use and the viands are flying off the tables in a manner peculiar to Western appetites; while over all this comes in continual chorus from the waiting-girls: "Steaks—chops—ham and eggs—tea or coffee—pie or pudding," with an occasional variation of "stewed prunes or fruit."

In this chorus their attendant maid has already joined, singing out in a business way, "Steaks, chops or ham and eggs," when to Miss Travenion's awful blushes, the girl suddenly stops her song and giggles, after the free and easy manner of the prairies, "I know what's the matter with you, Cap; you've been going and gitting married, and are bringing your wife West!" casting a look of identification on Erma as the imported bride.