“I have written and secured my rooms,” said Mr. Potiphar to everybody he met; “I am not to be left in the lurch, my dear sir, it isn’t my way.” And then he marched on, Gauche Boosey said, as if at least both sides of the street were his way. He’s changed a great deal lately.
The De Familles were going the same day. “Hope you’ve secured rooms, De Famille,” said Mr. Potiphar blandly to him.
“No,” answered he, shortly; “no, not yet; it isn’t my way; I don’t mean to give myself trouble about things; I don’t bother; it isn’t my way.”
And each went his own way up and down the street. But early on Monday afternoon Mr. De Famille and his family drove toward Fall Kiver, from which place the boat starts.
Monday evening the Potiphars and the rest of us went to the wharf at Newport, and presently the boat came up. We bundled on board, and as soon as he could get to the office Mr. Potiphar asked for the keys of his rooms.
“Why, sir,” said the clerk, “Mr. De Famille has them. He came on board at Fall Eiver and asked for your keys, as if the rooms had been secured for him.”
“What does that mean?” demanded Mr. Potiphar.
“Oh! ah! I remember now,” said Mr. Boosey. “I saw the De Familles all getting into a carriage for a little drive, as Mr. De F., said, about two o’clock this afternoon.”
Mr. Potiphar looked like a thunder-storm. “What the devil does it mean?” asked he of the clerk, while the passengers hustled him, and punched him, and the hook of an umbrella-stick caught in his cravat-knot, and untied it.
“Send up immediately, and say that Mr. Potiphar wants his state-rooms,” said he to the clerk.