"We're passing on to-morrow and will be just as careful of the rooms," said O'Donnell in the tone of one who talks to a child, and the pretty maid succumbed, and our valises were deposited in the coveted rooms.
But just as she left us she said once more, "You'll go when they come, won't you?"
"We sure will," said O'Donnell, with a solemnity that carried conviction with it. "Now about dinner," said he; "we'd like dinner at six thirty. It's now four."
"We haven't begun to serve dinners at night yet," said the maid. The summer season had evidently not begun.
"Oh, that's too bad," said O'Donnell, "but you'll make an exception in our case now, won't you?"
She thought a minute, and O'Donnell smiled on her.
I can imagine ice banks melting under that smile.
"I suppose we could give you hot roast chicken," said she.
"Why, of course you could. Roast chicken is just what you could give us, and potatoes with their jackets on——"
"And soup," said the girl, evidently excited over the prospect.