The Pleasantville press. (Pleasantville, N.J.) 1912-1929, 1916-01-22

toldevery day by undred OF thousands
of viziers' daughters to their respective
sultans. But the bowstring will get
some of 'em yet if they don't watch out.
| heard a story, though, of n lady
caliph. 1t isn't precisely an Arabian
Nights" story, because 1t brings in
Cinderella, who fourished her dishrag
in another epoch and country. So If
you don't mind the mixed dates (Which
seem to give it an eastern flavor, after
alb We'll get along.
In New York there is an old, old
hotel. You have seen wood cuts of it
in the magazines. 1t was built-let's
see-at a time when there was nothing
above Fourteenth street except the
old Indian trail to Boston and Ham
merstein's office. Soon the old hostel
ry will be torn down. And as the
stout walls are riven apart and the
bricks go roaring down the chutes
crowds of citizens will gather at the
nearest corners and weep over the de-
struction of a dear old landmark. Civ
ic pride is strong in New Bagdad, and
the wettest Weeper and the loudest
bowler against the iconoclasts will be
the man Originally from Terre Haute)
whose fond memories of the old hotel
are limited to his having been kicked
out from its free lunch counter in 1873.
At this hotel always stopped Mrs.
Maggie Brown. Mrs. Brown was a
bony woman of sixty, dressed in the
rustiest black, and carrying a handbag
made. apparently, from the hide of the
original animal that Adam decided to
call an alligator. She always occupied
a small parlor and bedroom at the
top of the hotel at a rental of 81 pei
day. And always, while she was there,
each day came hurrying to see her
many men, sharp faced, anxious look
ing, with only seconds to spare. For
Maggie Brown was said to be the third
richest woman in the world, and these
solicitous gentlemen were only the
city's wealthiest brokers and business
men seeking trifling loans of half a
dozen millions or so from the dingy old
lady with the prehistoric hand bag.
The stenographer and typewriter of
the Acropolis hotel-there, I've let the
name of it out!-was Miss Ida Bates.
She was a holdover from the Greek
classics. There wasn't a flaw in her
looks. Some old timer in paying ibis
regards to a lady said. ITO have loved
her was a liberal education" Well,
even to have looked over the back hair
and neat white shirt waist of Miss
Bates was equal to a full course in any
correspondence school in the country.
She sometimes did a little typewriting
for me and. as she refused to take the
money in advance, she came to look
upon me as something of a friend and
protege. She had unfailing kindness
and good nature, and not eve a white
lead drummer or Il fur importer had
ever dared to cross the dead line of
good behavior in her presence. The
entire force of the AcropoliS, from the
owner. who lived in Vienna. down to
the head porter. who had been bedrid-
den for sixteen years, would have
sprung to her defense in a moment.
One day | walked past Miss Bates
little sanctum Remingtorium and saw
in her place a black haired unit-unmis-
takably a person-pounding with each
of her forefingers upon the keys.
Musing on the mutability of temporal
affairs, l passed IL. The next day |
went on a two weeks vacation. Re
turning, | strolled through the lobby
of the Acropolis, and saw, with a little
warm glow of aud lang syne. Miss
Dofoc nc Cpooion ND lind and Hou ~
less as ever, just putting the cover on
her machine. The hour for closing
had come. but she asked me in to sit
for a few minutes in the dictation
chair. Miss Bates explained her NIB.
sence from and return to the Acropolis
hotel in words identical with or similar
to these following:
well. man. how are the stories con
ing?'
Pretty regularly" said L, about
equal to their going"
I'm sorry" said she. Good type
writing is the main thing in Il story
You've missed ne, haven't y0u?"
NO ore" said /. whom | have ever
known knows rs wei as you do low
to space properly belt buckles, semi.
colons. hotel guests ana h~a'rpins. But
you've been away, too. | saw a pack.
age of peppermint pepsin in Your place
the other day"
Il was going to tell you about it."
said Miss Bates. 'if you hadn't inter
rupted me.
"Of course, you know about Maggi- ,
Brown. who stops here. Well, she's
worth $40.O0O.0 600. She lives in ,Iersev
in a $40 fiat. She's always got more
cash on hand than half a dozen bust
ness candidates for vice president. |
don't know whether she carries it in
hor rtAnl-Ilar or not huff | know Shn's