of solidity and
bulk; her mouth was hard and knowing. Mr. Magee felt that she wanted to
vote, and that she would say as much from time to time. The lady had a
glittering eye; she put it to its time-honored use and fixed Mr. Magee
with it.
"I was crying, mamma," the girl explained, "and this gentleman inquired
if he could be of any service."
Mamma! Mr. Magee wanted to add his tears to those of the girl. This
frail and lovely damsel in distress owning as her maternal parent a
heavy unnecessary--person! The older woman also had yellow hair, but it
was the sort that suggests the white enamel pallor of a drug store, with
the soda-fountain fizzing and the bottles of perfume ranged in an
odorous row. Mamma! Thus rolled the world along.
"Well, they ain't no use gettin' all worked up for nothing," advised the
unpleasant parent. Mr. Magee was surprised that in her tone there was no
hostility to him--thus belying her looks. "Mebbe the gentleman can
direct us to a good hotel," she added, with a rather stagy smile.
"I'm a stranger here, too," Mr. Magee replied. "I'll interview the man
over there in the cage."
The gentleman referred to was not cheerful in his replies. There was, he
said, Baldpate Inn.
"Oh, yes, Baldpate Inn," repeated Billy Magee with interest.
"Yes, that's a pretty swell place," said the ticket agent. "But it ain't
open now. It's a summer resort. There ain't no place open now but the
Commercial House. And I wouldn't recommend no human being
there--especially no lady who was sad before she ever saw it."
Mr. Magee explained to the incongruous family pair waiting on the bench.
"There's only one hotel," he said, "and I'm told it's not exactly the
place for any one whose outlook on life is not rosy at the moment. I'm
sorry."
"It will do very well," answered the girl, "whatever it is." She smiled
at Billy Magee. "My outlook on life in Upper Asquewan Falls," she said,
"grows rosier every minute. We must find a cab."
She began to gather up her traveling-bags, and Mr. Magee hastened to
assist. The three went out on the station platform, upon which lay a
thin carpet of snowflakes. There the older woman, in a harsh rasping
voice, found fault with Upper Asquewan Falls,--its geography, its public
spirit, its brand of weather. A dejected cab at the end of the platform
stood mourning its lonely lot. In it Mr. Magee placed the large lady and
the bags. Then, while the driver climbed to his seat, he spoke int
|