Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
"Now," continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby hat softly and
beating one of his polished shoes upon the floor, "I want to
arrange, if possible, to have you come and stop at the Wellington.
You need not trouble about terms. In fact, we need hardly discuss
them. Anything will do for the summer-a mere figure-anything
that you think you could afford to pay."
Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no chance.
"You can come to-day or to-morrow-the earlier the better-and we
will give you your choice of nice, light, outside rooms-the very
best we have."
"Youíre very kind," said Carrie, touched by the agentís extreme
affability. "I should like to come very much. I would want to pay
what is right, however. I shouldnít want to-"
"You need not trouble about that at all," interrupted Mr. Withers.
"We can arrange that to your entire satisfaction at any time. If
three dollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will be so to us. All
you have to do is to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of, the
week or month, just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt
for what the rooms would cost if charged for at our regular rates."
The speaker paused.
"Suppose you come and look at the rooms," he added.
"Iíd be glad to," said Carrie, "but I have a rehearsal this morning."
"I did not mean at once," he returned, "Any time will do. Would
this afternoon be inconvenient?"
"Not at all," said Carrie.
Suddenly she remembered Lola, who was out at the time.
"I have a room-mate," she added, "who will have to go wherever I
do. I forgot about that."
"Oh, very well," said Mr. Withers, blandly. "It is for you to say
whom you want with you. As I say, all that can be arranged to suit
He bowed and backed toward the door.
"At four, then, we may expect you?"
"Yes," said Carrie.
"I will be there to show you," and so Mr. Withers withdrew.
After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola.
"Did they really?" exclaimed the latter, thinking of the Wellington
as a group of managers. "Isnít that fine? Oh, jolly! Itís so swell.
Thatís where we dined that night we went with those two Cushing
boys. Donít you know?"
"I remember," said Carrie.
"Oh, itís as fine as it can be."
"Weíd better be going up there," observed Carrie, later in the
The rooms which Mr. Withers displayed to Carrie and Lola were
three and bath-a suite on the parlour floor. They were done in
chocolate and dark red, with
rugs and hangings to match. Three windows looked down into
busy Broadway on the east, three into a side street which crossed
there. There were two lovely bedrooms, set with brass and white
enamel beds, white, ribbon-trimmed chairs and chiffoniers to
match. In the third room, or parlour, was a piano, a heavy piano
lamp, with a shade of gorgeous pattern, a library table, several
huge easy rockers, some dado book shelves, and a gilt curio case,
filled with oddities. Pictures were upon the walls, soft Turkish
pillows upon the divan, footstools of brown plush upon the floor.
Such accommodations would ordinarily cost a hundred dollars a
"Oh, lovely!" exclaimed Lola, walking about.
"It is comfortable," said Carrie, who was lifting a lace curtain and
looking down into crowded Broadway.
The bath was a handsome affair, done in white enamel, with a
large, blue-bordered stone tub and nickel trimmings. It was bright
and commodious, with a bevelled mirror set in the wall at one end
and incandescent lights arranged in three places.
"Do you find these satisfactory?" observed Mr. Withers.
"Oh, very," answered Carrie.