A spittoon occupied
a prominent place in the center of the room. The tables were dusty, the
furniture in confusion. The ladies' parlor was perfectly familiar to
Billy, but this morning he viewed it with new eyes.

"Say, the Doc ain't fair. He's too swift in his movements," he muttered
to himself as he proceeded to fling things into their places. He raised
the windows, opened the stove door and looked in. The ashes of many
fires half filling the box met his eyes with silent reproach. "Say, the
Doc ain't fair," he muttered again. "Them ashes ought to have been out
of there long ago." This fact none knew better than himself, inasmuch as
there was no other from whom this duty might properly be expected. Yet
it brought some small relief to vent his disgust upon this offending
accumulation of many days' neglect. There was not a moment to lose. He
was due in ten minutes to meet the possible guests for the Royal at the
train. He seized a pail left in the hall by the none too tidy housemaid
and with his hands scooped into it the ashes from the stove, and,
leaving a cloud of dust to settle everywhere upon tables and chairs, ran
down with his pail and back again with kindling and firewood and had
a fire going in an extraordinarily short time. He then caught up an
ancient antimacassar, used it as a duster upon chairs and tables, flung
it back again in its place over the rickety sofa and rushed for the
station to find that the train had already pulled in, had come to a
standstill and was disgorging its passengers upon the platform.

"Roy--al Ho--tel!" shouted Billy. "Best in town! All the comforts and
conveniences! Yes, sir! Take your grip, sir? Just give me them checks!
That's all right, leave 'em to me. I'll get your baggage all right."

He saw the doctor wandering distractedly up and down the platform.

"Hello, Doc, got your lady? Not on the Pullman, eh? Take a look in the
First Class. Say, Doc," he added in a lower voice, coming near to the
doctor, "what's that behind you?"

The doctor turned sharply and saw a young lady whose long clinging black
dress made her seem taller than she was. She wore a little black hat
with a single feather on one side, which gave it a sort of tam o'
shanter effect. She came forward with hand outstretched.

"I know you, Mr. Martin," she said in a voice that indicated immense
relief.

"You?" he cried. "Is it you? And to think I didn't know you. And to
think you should remember me."

"Remembe