Those for Mr. Romaine and his party were of course the finest in the house, on the drawing-room floor, and the best corner rooms. Sir Archy cared very little where he was put, except that his rooms must be large and have a bath, at which he never ceased to grumble, because there were not shower baths, Turkish baths, Russian baths, and every other arrangement provided for all varieties of bathing.
Colonel Corbin, having in hand what he considered a magnificent sum of money, less a considerable hole in it made by prolonging his stay at Newport, and a present to Letty and a like sum to Miss Jemima, established himself en prince. He had a bed-room and sitting-room for himself, besides the bed-rooms and sitting-room for Miss Jemima and Letty. He insisted upon having their meals served in private, but at this Letty flatly rebelled. Go to the public dining-room she would, to see and be seen. The Colonel was no match for Letty when she really put forth her prowess—for liberty or death was that young woman’s motto—and in an hour or two after their arrival at the hotel, he very obediently followed her down to the great red-carpeted room, where all the lazy people in the hotel were taking a ten o’clock breakfast.
Letty looked uncommonly charming in her simple, well-fitting gown of dark blue, and masculine eyes were pretty generally turned on her as she entered. But the Colonel attracted still more attention. As he stalked in the great open doorway the head waiter, as imposing as only a black head waiter can be, suddenly exclaimed:
“Hi! Good Lord A’mighty! Ef dis heah ain’ Marse Colonel!”
The Colonel recognized his friend in an instant, and extended his hand cordially.
“Why, bless my soul! If it isn’t Black Peter, that used to be Tom Lightfoot’s body servant! How do you do? how do you do?”
By that time they were sawing the air with mutual delight.
“An’ ter think I done live ter see Marse Colonel agin! An’ how is all de folks? How ole missis, and Miss Sally Lightfoot, and little Marse Torm?”
“Admirably, admirably well,” cried the Colonel, beginning to give all the particulars of ole missis, Miss Sally, little Marse Torm, etc., in his big baritone. The people all turned toward the Colonel and his long-lost friend, and everybody smiled. Letty, not at all confused, stood by her grandfather’s side and put her hand into Black Peter’s paw.
Peter was extremely elegant, after an antique pattern, not unlike the Colonel’s own, and proud to be recognized as a friend by “de fust quality.”