The purser was busy allotting seats at the tables, and Buel waited patiently. He had no friends on board, and did not care where he was placed.
When the purser was at liberty, the steward explained to him the difficulty which had arisen. The official looked at his list.
“159—Buel. Is that your name, sir? Very good; 160—Hodden. That is the gentleman now in the room. Well, what is the trouble?”
“Mr. Hodden says, sir, that the room belongs to him.”
“Have you seen his ticket?”
“No, sir.”
“Then bring it to me.”
“Mistakes sometimes happen, Mr. Buel,” said the purser, when the steward vanished. “But as a general thing I find that people simply claim what they have no right to claim. Often the agents promise that if possible a passenger shall have a room to himself, and when we can do so we let him have it. I try to please everybody; but all the steamers crossing to America are full at this season of the year, and it is not practicable to give every one the whole ship to himself. As the Americans say, some people want the earth for £12 or £15, and we can’t always give it to them. Ah, here is the ticket. It is just as I thought. Mr. Hodden is entitled merely to berth 160.”
The arrival of the ticket was quickly followed by the advent of Mr. Hodden himself. He still ignored Buel.
“Your people in London,” he said to the purser, “guaranteed me a room to myself. Otherwise I would not have come on this line. Now it seems that another person has been put in with me. I must protest against this kind of usage.”