“Why?” I asked.
“Two reasons,” says he. “In the f-f-first place, he wouldn’t take any comfort eatin’ his meals there, and, in the s-second place, it costs too much. Uncle Hieronymous wouldn’t eat in any b-big dinin’-room with f-f-fifty folks lookin’ on.”
“What kind of a place would he stop at?”
“Either a boardin’-house or a leetle f-f-farmer’s hotel. I b-bet there’s an old hotel here s-s-somewheres where he would f-feel to home, one where there hain’t much s-s-style.”
“Well,” says I, “s’pose we find out.”
We wandered around and found a couple of hotels that didn’t look too fine. In both of them we asked for Uncle Hieronymous, and both times the man behind the counter grinned when we mentioned the name.
“Say,” says the last one, “what’s that feller been doin’? Lots of folks lookin’ for him to-night.”
“What’s that?” Mark asked.
“Two fellers in here not twenty minnits ago askin’ for him.”
“A f-f-fat one and a thin one?”