“That you will hold on to your job right here until I can get hold of as good a graft.”
Say, Billy, she grew two inches taller in half a minute, and then she struck an attitude and throwing her right hand out with the palm down, she said:
“Walk on, man; I have had offers from four Italian counts and two English lords within a week, but as they all suggested the same conditions, I am still single. But say, you are a good looker and if you should happen to want a job as chauffeur I might use you with my new touring car.”
Wouldn’t that give a fellow a smell of gasoline, though?
I made a foolish bet once while in Denver, with Dug Green. I bet him twenty plunks that I could live at the Blue Palace a week without tipping anyone about the hotel. The only place that troubled me was the dining-room. I was sure I could get away with the bell boys and porters, although I knew I would get myself very much disliked. You know how bad I hate to get beat, Billy, so you must know how hard I tried to save that twenty, but it was no use—I soon found I was fighting against big odds and that the other side had some great generals. We made the bet on Monday morning before breakfast, and I was to commence at once. As I went into the cafe that morning I picked out a waiter whom I had tipped quite liberally the week before, and said to him:
“Sam, bring me a nice little breakfast. You know what I like.”
Sam brought me a nice sirloin steak, shirred eggs, rolls and a cup of coffee, and on the steak was a couple of slices of crisp bacon. When through with my breakfast I walked out without giving Sam a tip. He showed his surprise and disappointment very plainly. According to my arrangement with Dug I was not to make any promises of future payment, and was to eat in the same dining-room during the week.
At lunch time Sam waited on me again and looked more puzzled than ever when I walked out without tipping him. At dinner I sat at another table and had another waiter, who of course knew that I had not tipped Sam, as every customer in a hotel is spotted and his measure taken by each flunkey for the benefit of the others. This waiter seemed to think that for some reason I had taken exceptions to Sam, therefore, he laid himself out to do his best to win my favor, thinking to draw an extra tip from me. It was of no use, however, as when through I walked out, leaving nothing to smooth the rough places off his hard and lumpy thoughts.
My plan then was to change tables each meal, as I thought in that way I could get through the week and save my bet, but you know the old saying, “White man proposes and a nigger trips him up”—at least Dug told me it was an old saying. Imagine my surprise the next morning as I sat down to a table far removed from Sam’s side of the dining-room to find that he was to wait on me.
“Bring me a nice little breakfast, Sam,” said I, and it was brought—that is, it was little but not nice. The steak was tough, the bacon was raw and the potatoes were cold. I stood it until Thursday morning, and then dodged into the dining-room when I saw Sam had all he could attend to. As I came in the door the head waiter sent some one to take Sam’s place, and Sam came to me with a smile on his face that boded no good for yours truly.