"Oh, no you don't. You think you see, I've no doubt. But there is only one Wilder upon earth, and perhaps that is fortunate. You've been in with those pirate Crosbys for years. Well, Wilder is the Crosby—in other words the pirate—of Tamawaca. See now?"
"He runs things, eh?"
"Yes; for Wilder. A charming fellow, by the way. Looks like a cherub, and acts like——"
"You interest me," said Jarrod, brightening. "I'm glad I'm going to Tamawaca."
A few days later the Jarrods—bag and baggage, parents and children—travelled up to Chicago and landed in the morning at the Auditorium Annex. A little fat man stood before the counter in front of Jarrod and winked saucily at the clerk. His face was moon-shaped and rosy, guiltless of whisker, and bore an expression at once gentle and whimsical.
"Gimme the best room you have," he called out, while scribbling his name on the register.
"Ah, a twenty-dollar suite?" asked the clerk, cheerfully.
"Hear me out!" retorted the little man. "Gimme the best room you have for four dollars a day."
"Oh," said the clerk, his jaw dropping. "Here, front! show the gentleman up to 1906. Any baggage, sir?"
"Just my wife," sighed the little man, with another wink, and a stout lady of ample proportions grabbed his arm and whisked him away. She didn't seem at all offended, but laughed pleasantly and said: "Now, George, behave yourself!"