"Oh, yes," said Massenger, with a gleam in his eye. "It obtains all right. You leave it to them."
"How much shall I leave to them?" said I, looking at the small coins I had withdrawn from my pocket.
"Well, we have been royally treated, and there are a good many waiters and chambermaids and 'portiers,' and a proprietor or two, and the equivalent for boots, and the 'bus driver."
"But how are we to get them all?"
"Just pay your bill and you'll get them all right," said Massenger. (I should explain that whoever travels with me is called Massenger. It saves trouble.)
I did not quite understand, but I signified my intention of paying my bill, and the proprietor or his steward was all bows and smiles, and handed it to me, at the same time ringing a bell.
Then the chorus began to assemble. Lads and maidens in the persons of waiters whom I had never seen, and chambermaids of whom I had never heard, began to swarm into the office.
After they had ranged themselves picturesquely the boots began to arrive. Some from neighboring hotels who had heard the bell came running in, and grouped themselves behind the maids. Then a head waiter who looked like a tenor came seriously in and I expected that in a moment I would hear:
"'Tis the very first of May,
Though we've not a thing to say,
We will stand here, anyway
Stand awhile and sing."
I looked at Massenger and asked him what it all meant.