The bath-house is acrost the street from the other hotel, the Breakers, that the man had told us was full for the season. Both buildin's fronts on the ocean; and, boy, it's some ocean! I bet they's fish in there that never seen each other!
"Oh, let's go bathin' right away!" says the Missus.
"Our suits is up to the other beanery," says I, and I was glad of it. They wasn't nothin' temptin' to me about them man-eatin' waves.
But the Wife's a persistent cuss.
"We won't go to-day," she says, "but we'll go in the bath-house and get some rooms for to-morrow."
The bath-house porch was a ringer for the Follies. Here and down on the beach was where you seen the costumes at this time o' day. I was so busy rubberin' that I passed the entrance door three times without noticin' it. From the top o' their heads to the bottom o' their feet the girls was a mess o' colors. They wasn't no two dressed alike and if any one o' them had of walked down State Street we'd of had an epidemic o' stiff neck to contend with in Chi. Finally the Missus grabbed me and hauled me into the office.
"Two private rooms," she says to the clerk. "One lady and one gent."
"Five dollars a week apiece," he says. "But we're all filled up."
"You ought to be all locked up!" I says.
"Will you have anything open to-morrow?" ast the Missus.