He walked up to the desk, on which was spread out, wide open, the hotel register. Rather a dissipated-looking clerk stood behind the counter, picking his teeth.
“Good morning, sir,” said Joe politely. “What do you charge to stay here?”
“A dollar a day,” answered the clerk.
“Can you give me a room?”
“I guess so, my son. Where is your trunk?”
“I haven’t got any.”
“Haven’t you got any baggage?”
“Here it is.”
The clerk looked rather superciliously at the small bundle.
“Then you’ll have to pay in advance.”