The Baumgarten Brother had smiled a little, and said, “She knows.”
The upshot of the morning was to give Hildegarde an inkling that the chief use of Mr. Blumpitty, so far as she was concerned, might be that he would keep her family soothed by the illusion that this respectable man, pledged to her service, was “going to see that everything was all right.” For the rest, should she not perhaps do well to imitate his spouse, and not expect any one to be wide awake in her interest who was half asleep before his own? Although he had said, “Ya-as, it’s all right about the ticket,” Miss Mar interviewed the steamship people on her own behalf. “Quite right!” they indorsed Mr. Blumpitty’s account of the matter. And as to the berths, Mr. Blumpitty already had twenty-eight, and had sent word he wanted a twenty-ninth, “a pertickler good one fur a lady.” “Noospaper woman I presoom,” said the agent politely. It seemed to be only the press that inspired such respect. She was more glad than ever of the offer that had come that morning from Eddie Cox, editor, now, of the “San Miguel Despatch.” “Yes,” she told the agent, “I am to be a Regular Correspondent.” In all sorts of ways she saw her status incomparably improved by falling in with Eddie Cox’s suggestion. It appeared to be necessary to stand well with a “noospaper” woman. “What accommodation can I have?”
“Why, the best we got.”
“Is there much choice?”
“We put you down here, with Mr. Blumpitty’s party.” A number was indicated.
“I’d like to see the cabin.”
“See it?”
“Yes, before I decide.”
Impossible. If she didn’t take and pay for the berth now, in an hour it would be in other hands. But seeing her quite unhustled by this horrid alternative, the agent said he would make a great, an unheard-of exception in her case, and promised to take her over the ship as soon as the Los Angeles came up from Tacoma, where she was being elaborately refitted, “new paint, electric light, everything.” It would be a pity for a “noospaper” woman to go in any meaner vessel.