I knew that my face fell. Eight dollars would make a large hole in my slender funds—I had been foolish not to have borrowed fifty dollars on the trunk. So I decided to write instead of telegraph; and with him watching me I endeavored to speak lightly.
“Thank you. Now where will I find the place known as the Big Tent?”
He laughed with peculiar emphasis.
“If you had mentioned the Big Tent sooner you’d have got no twenty dollars from me, sir. Not that I’ve anything against it, understand. It’s all right, everybody goes there; perfectly legitimate. I go there myself. And you may redeem your trunk to-morrow and be buying champagne.”
“I am to meet a friend at the Big Tent,” I stiffly explained. “Further than that I have no business there. I know nothing whatever about it.”
“I beg your pardon, sir. No offense intended. The Big Tent is highly regarded—a great place to spend a pleasant evening. All Benton indulges. I wish you the best of luck, sir. You are heeled, I see. No one will take you for a pilgrim.” Despite the assertion there was a twinkle in his eye. “You will find the Big Tent one block and a half down this street. You cannot miss it.”