"Show us to our rooms," he ordered. "Send up the change when it comes."
He laid down the pen, but his hand had scarcely left the surface of the book when it was clutched by that of Judge Lampton.
"In the name of the judiciary and of the enterprising citizens of this place, I welcome you to Battlesburg," he announced.
Mr. Wallingford, "always on the job"—to use the expressive parlance of his friend Mr. Daw—drew himself up and radiated.
"Thank you," he returned. "I have already inspected your beautiful little city with much pleasure, and all that you need to make this a live town is a good hotel."
The Judge shot at Pete Parsons a triumphant grin. Ever since Mr. Lampton had been denied credit beyond the amount of two dollars at the Palace Hotel bar, himself and Mr. Parsons had been "on the outs."
"Let me show you the very piece of property to build it on," he eagerly returned.
Only for a moment Wallingford considered.
"I'll look at it to-morrow morning," he said.
"I shall have the facts and figures ready for you, sir," and Judge Lampton swaggered out of the Palace Hotel on a bee-line for a little publicity.