"Now this is just what a man in your position wants and needs. You have a lot of writing to do here, and nowhere to do it; now with this machine you don't require any table or desk; you can hold this typewriter right in your lap."
"Not me, Mister," said the Door Man hastily; "I'm married."
There used to be a door man at Keith's Boston House who could tell more in less words than any man I ever saw. One Monday morning some actors came in who had never been in Boston before, and they were asking this old fellow about the different hotels:
"How is the Rexford?" asked the Lady.
"Burlesque," grunted the old fellow.
"What is the Touraine?"
"Headliners."
"How about the So-and-so House?" naming quite a notorious hotel.
"Been open eleven years and had three trunks."