At the outer edge of the platform was a railing over which leaned, facing them, a crowd of taxicab drivers, each shouting the name of the particular hotel he covered. It was a veritable bedlam, and nothing could be done but listen to it until the baggage was brought out.
“We had better have two cabs, I think,” said Miss Ashton, “on account of our numerous bags. Martha and I will take this one, and you two can follow in the next.”
The cab which came up to the steps immediately after she and Martha had driven off, was quickly claimed by another party; so the girls had to wait for the next. They signaled to one as it approached; but as soon as it drew up, a tall woman, who apparently sprang from nowhere, stepped out ahead of the girls and into the cab.
Jeanette ventured to remark, “We called this cab,” and the taxi men looked at one another and smiled. The girls hesitated; but the woman leaned forward and said to Nancy: “You are going to the Lord Nelson Hotel; aren’t you?”
“Why, yes——”
“Then we may as well go up together,” and she settled firmly back in the corner of the cab.
There was nothing else to be done; so Nancy got in, and Jeanette followed her.
The baggage was piled in front, and soon they were off up the steep streets leading to the hotel. The stranger, apparently an English woman, talked entertainingly of her trip across, the gifts which had been sent to her stateroom when she sailed, and of Halifax which she had not visited in several years. When they drew up at the hotel, which is opposite the beautiful Public Gardens, she paid her share of the charges, took her one smart-looking bag, and walked away down the street, murmuring something about taking a walk.
“Of all queer women!” observed Jeanette. “Why on earth doesn’t she go in and dispose of the bag?”
A boy took their bags up to the room which had been reserved for them; and as Nancy felt for her purse, she gasped a little and whispered to Jeanette, “You tip him.”