“It’s going to be fine weather for Christmas.”
“All right,” said I. “If you will pull off a good sunshiny day, you can come to my room and get a half a dollar,” and then the little beggar asked me if I was going to be here Christmas. I got rid of this boy for the time being on a promise, but I knew that half would have to be paid if Christmas brought in a cyclone.
The elevator boy sprung a new one on me. He handed out a catch-penny Christmas box and said:
“Ain’t that a peach?”
“Sure,” said I, wondering what he would say next.
“Then put a stone in it,” said he. That cost me a quarter.
In the dining-room each waiter wished me a “Merry Christmas,” and then you would see his hand slide out toward you as though he could not help it. Every chambermaid on my floor swore that she had waited on me at some other hotel, but the boy at the coat room took the palm. He wiped off my boots with a cloth, helped me on with my coat and brushed it, then as I was walking away, said:
“Thank you, sah; thank you, very kindly.”
“What in H—— are you thanking me for; I didn’t give you anything.”
“No, sah; no, sah!” said he, hesitatingly; “I only thanked yo’ cause yo’ let me bresh yo’ off, sah.”