The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1913-08-14
CHAPTER !.
Husbands and Wife.

~ ROCK was breakfasting out Of
doors in the cheerful little gar
den Of the Hotel Chatham. The
sun streamed warmly upon the
concrete floor of the court just beyond
the row Of palms and oleanders that
fringed the rail against which his Her
aid rested, that he might read a he
ran, so to speak. He was the only per-
son having dejeuner on the terrace"
as he named 1t to the obseQuious wait
er who always attended him. Charles
was the magnet that drew Brock to
the Chatham, that excellent French ho-
tel with the excellent English name.
Charles was standing, alert but PEN
sive, quite near at hand, ready to re-
plenish the bowl with honey. Brock
was especially fond Of 1t. Brock
had gone to the Chatham for years just
because Charles was a fixture there.
Charles spoke the most e%xecrably pic
turesque English. served with a puncti.
liousness that savored almost Of the
overbearing, and boosted that he had
acquired the art Of making American
cocktails during a FIVE weeks residence
In the United States.
It was a lazy morning. Brock was
happy. He wa even interested when
q porter came forth and unraveled q
long roll Of garden hose, with which
he abruptly began to splash water
upon the concrete surface Of the court
without regard for distance or direc-
ton. Moreover. he proceeded to water
the palms, operating from a spot no
less than twenty feet away, until the
faithful Charles restored him to earth
by means of certain subdued injunc-
tons and less moderate gesticulations.
from which 1t could be readily gather
ed that "m'sieur was eating, not bath
ing" Whereupon the utterly uncrush-
ed porter splashed water at right an
giles, to Brooks relief. ",I'sieur will
pardon the boy" apologized Charles in
deepest humility, taking much for
granted. 1T will be very warm today.
Your serviette, m'sieur-it is damp.
Pardony" He few away and back with
another napkin. "Of course. m'sieur.
the Chatham Is not the Waldorf" he
announced deprecatingly. "Parbleu,"
beating himself on the forehead. 81
forgot! M'sieur does not like the Wal
dorf. En-. bien. Paris is not New York.
no." Having sufficiently humDled
Paris he withdrew into the back
ground. rubbing his hands % II he
were cleansing them of something un-
slightly. Brock spread cie Of the but
tered biscuits with honey and inwardly
admitted that Paris was not New York
He was a good looking chap Of thir-
" or t~hereabouts. an American to the
core, bright eyed. keen witted. smooth
faced. virile. From boyhood's earliest
days he had spent a portion OF his
summers in Europe. Two or three
years Of his life had been employed In
the beaux arts. fruitful years. for
Brock had not wasted his opportuni-
ties. He had gone in for architecture
and building. Today he stood high
among the younger men In New York.
prosperous successful and q menace to
the old cry that a son Of the rich can
not thrive In bis fathers domain
Nowadays be came to the old world
Tor his breathing spells. he was able
to combine dawdling and development
without sacrificing one for the other.
wherein lies the proof that his q
lions were not akin to those taken By
most Of
The might In Paris was 10 b.
followed b. . week In 81 Petersburg
and q brief tour Of Sweden and Nor
way. His say IN the say city was