"What's that?"
"I mean that I understand perfectly."
"Well, say what you mean."
"Senator," said I, "he is right. I'd better get a room down town. Walking in and out—and I couldn't think of riding—would take up too much of my time, and I expect to be very busy after the season opens."
"Well, now, there may be something in that. Yes, Sir, there's a good deal to be attended to. Suit yourself. Perhaps it would be better. Washington, you go on and pay for your diabolical arrangement to keep me awake."
The negro bowed and gave me a look, but not of victory—of gratitude.
CHAPTER X.
MR. PETTICORD.
Early the next day I was formally installed as manager of the Bolanyo Opera House. The Senator directed the ceremony, marking long meter with his hat, and by his solemn mien appearing to demand of me a serious and majestic chant, the tune of Old Hundred, to express a deep sense of my responsibility—a mere fancy, of course; but as a matter of fact, he did seem to believe that we ought to make a sentiment of this commonplace and businesslike procedure. But I told him that we would waive the rights of a mysterious incantation and look upon the affair as a commercial transaction.