im down and fin'lly persuades him to
tackle his mutton broth without the Martini. It's a good enough feed;
but kind of plain, about what you'd get in one of these Eighth-ave.
joints, four courses for thirty-five cents. Mr. Ellins gets left again
when he calls for a demitasse after the tapioca pudding. Nothing doing
in the coffee line.

"Huh!" he grunts. "I suppose I may smoke, eh?"

"On the north veranda, from seven until eight-fifteen," says the waiter.

"Well, I'll be--blistered!" says Old Hickory.

While he's burnin' a couple of black perfectos out on the smoke
reservation, I roams around the Restorium. It's furnished neat and
simple, with lots of varnished woodwork and a few framed railroad photos
on the walls. In the parlor was four or five groups of women in rockin'
chairs, talkin' low and doin' fancy-work. Most of the men were tiptoein'
up and down the veranda. They was a stoop shouldered, dyspeptic lookin'
lot. Down in the basement in a place labeled "Recreation Room," a couple
of checker games was in progress, and four gents was shovin' weights up
and down the shuffleboard. Yes, it was a perfectly good place to be
quiet in. I could guess why Hickory Ellins had begun to show signs of
bein' restless. By eight o'clock he comes marchin' in and up to the
office desk.

"Where's the billiard room?" says he.

"There is no billiard room, brother," says the Doc, steppin' to the
front. "Here we have eliminated all of those things that might disturb
our beautiful peace and quiet."

"Have, eh?" grunts Hickory. "Then where can I find three others to make
up a bridge game?"

"Card playing," says the Doc, putting his thumb and forefingers
together, "is not allowed in the Restorium."

"Sorrowing sisters by the sea!" remarks Mr. Ellins. "No billiards! No
cards! Say, what the merry Mithridates do you think I'm going to do with
myself from now until twelve o'clock, eh?"

"By referring to the rules of this establishment, Mr. Ellins," says the
Doc, speakin' cold and reprovin', "you will see that the general
retiring hour is fixed at nine-thirty. At nine-forty-five the gas is all
turned off."

"What!" roars Hickory. "Think you're going to put me to bed at
nine-thirty?"

"You are at liberty to sit up in the dark, if you choose," the Doc comes
back at him. "Any guest who is dissatisfied with the manner in which the
Restorium is conducted has the option of leaving."

"Well, say!" says Mr. Ellins, thumpin' the desk earne