“No, no, sir, you didn’t! But I’m—we’re—in dreadful trouble. Do you know—do you?—where that other hotel is, that Metropolitan?”
“Surely, I know. Why?”
“Is it far? Can I run there quick? The cabman—we haven’t any money—it was a mistake—and I must go, I must!”
Leslie laid a soothing hand on Dorothy’s, which she had clasped imploringly before the stranger, and told their story.
The effect was surprising. This gentleman was the proprietor of this establishment and he well knew Mr. Ford, by reputation at least. With one angry glance around the lobby and at the now obsequious clerk, he wheeled about, strode to the cab, opened the door and lifted Dorothy within. Then he as promptly settled Alfaretta beside her, himself took the forward seat and motioned Leslie to follow. Then he ordered:
“Now, cabby, drive like lightning! It’ll be worth your while. Straight ahead, five blocks—east two—north three! Drive, I tell you.”
And “drive” the man did, as fast as his slow horse could be urged, while within the carriage the three young folks sat in anxiety, Dorothy leaning far forward, as if by that means she could reach her destination sooner.
Their new friend beamed upon her, asking a few questions which drew out a brief history of their trip and the plans for their coming summer. Then almost before the cab was halted before a big hotel he had opened its door again and taking the hands of the two girls piloted them straight into it and through some great halls to the dining room. There he halted and gave the name:
“Mr. Daniel Ford and party.”