“Um!... Wonder he didn’t buy him a hotel,” says Catty, “and fix it up to suit him.”
“Say,” said the clerk, “I calc’late he’s goin’ to. I heard him talkin’ it up last night. Says, says he, that this town, with its new manufacturin’ industries, ought to have a fine hotel. Yes, sir, and says he, he guessed maybe he’d build one as soon as the factory was done and runnin’. I’ve struck him for the job of clerkin’.”
“Hope you git it. When’s he goin’ to git out of them rooms?”
“Dunno.”
“Soon’s he does we’ll take ’em,” says Catty, “if you’ll fix ’em up a bit. Maybe we won’t like the furniture.”
“We aim to please. All you got to do is tell us what you want.”
“First,” says Catty, “you’ll have to fetch ’em a flight down-stairs. I’m gittin’ so’s I hate to climb stairs. Fetch ’em down to the second floor.”
“That’s where they be now,” says the clerk.
“And we like our rooms lookin’ right over Main Street, and not to the side over nobody’s meat-market.”
“What give you the idee Kinderhook’s rooms was on the side? Not them; they’re front corner rooms. Parlor in the corner, big one, and other rooms along the front.”