Abbeville progress. (Abbeville, Vermilion Parish, La.) 1913-1944, 1914-10-03

D
that ne did not have to look up to meet
her gaze.
Lock here. mother, they tell me
! there's some sort Of a convention here,
/ and the towns packed. That's what
/ al those banners and things were for.
I ! hope they've got something decent
for US here. I came up with man
who said he didn't think there was a
hole left to sleep in"
You don't say" exclaimed Emma
NcChesney, and turned to the clerk
This is my son, Jock McChesney-
Mr. Sims. Is this tue?"
Glad to know you, sir" said Mr..
Sims. Why, yes, I'm afraid we are
, pretty well filed up, but seeing it's
you maybe We can do something for
you"
He ruminated tapping his teeth
with a penholder, and eying the pair
before him with a maddening blank
I ness Of gaze. Finally:
IN DO my best, but you can't ex-
| pect much. | guess I can squeeze
another cot into eighty-seven for the
young man. There's-let's see now
who's in eighty-seven? Well. there's
| two Bisons in the double bed, and one
in the single, and Fat Ed Meyers in
the cot and"
Emma McChesney stiffened into
/ acute attention. Meyers" she inter
rupted. Do you mean Ed Meyers of
the Strauss Sans-silk Skirt company o.
That's so. You two are in the
same line, aren't you? He's a great
little piano player, Ed is. Ever hear
him play?"
When did he get in?'
oh, he just came in fifteen minutes
ago on the Ashland division He's in
at supper"
on, said Emma McChesney. The
two letters breathed relief
But relief had no place in the voice.
or on the countenance of Jock McChes.
ney. He bristled with belligerence.
This cattle-car style of sleeping
don't make a hit. | haven't had a
decent nights rest for three nights. l
never could sleep on sleeper Can't
|, you fix us up better than that"
Best | can do"
But where's mother going? | see
you advertise three large and com
modious steam-heated sample rooms
in connection l suppose mothers due
to sleep on one Of the tables there"
Jock" Emma McChesney reproved
him, Mr.. Sims is doing us a great
favor. There isn't another hotel in
town that would"
You're right, there isn't" agreed
Mr.. Sims Il guess the young man is
new to this travelling game. As
said, I'd like to accommodate you. but
- Let's see now. Tell you what I'll
do. If l can get the housekeeper to
go over and sleep in the maids quar-
ters just for tonight. you can use her
room. There you are. OF course,
it's over the kitchen, and there may
be some little noise early in the morn
ing"
Emma McChesrey raised a protest
ing hand. Don't mention it. Just
lead me thither I'm so tired ] could
sleep in an excursion special that was
switching at Pittsburgh. Jock, me
child, we're in luck. That's twice in
the same place. The first time was
when We were inspired to cat our
supper on the diner instead of wait
ing until we reached here to take the
leftoyers from the Bisons' grazing.
hope that housekeeper hasn't pic
ture of her departed husband dan
Cling, life-size, on the wall at the foot
Of the bed. Gut they always have.
Goodnight, son. Don't let the Bisons
bite you. III be up at seven
But it was just $50 a. m. when
Emma McChesney turned the little
bend in the stairway that led to the
Office. The scrub-woman was still in
possession. The cigar-counter girl had
not yet made her appearance. There
was about the place a general air of
the night before. All but the night
clerk He was as spruce and trim,
OAN diCib anu oAhOOlL-SiidNGu OliN
a night clerk can be after a nights
vigil.
Morning" Emma McChesney
called to him. She wore blue serge,
and smart fall hat The late autumn
morning was not crisper and SUMMER
than she.
"Good-morning, Mrs. McChesney,"
returned Mr.. Sims, generously Have
a good nights sleep? l hope the
kitchen noise didn't wake you
Emma McChesney paused with her
hand on the door, Kitchen? Oh, no.
l could sleep through a vaudeville
china-juggling act But-what an ex-
traordfnarily npleasant-looking man
that housekeeper's husband must have
been"
That November morning boosted all
those qualities which November-morn-
ing writers are so prone to bestow
upon the month. But the words wine,
and sparkle, and sting, and glow, and
snap do not seem to cover it. Emma
McCEesney stood on the bottom step,
looking up and down Main street and
breathing in great draughts of that
unadjectiyable air. Her complexion