Page:Frenzied Fiction.djvu/169

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Lost in New York

I’m here prepared to spend my good money to get breakfast I guess I’m not scared to ask a simple question of a man in uniform. Or no, I’ll not ask him. I’ll try this one—or no, he’s busy. I’ll ask this other boy. Say, would you mind, if you please, telling me, please, which way the dining-room—Eh, what? Do I want which? The grill room or the palm room? Why, I tell you, young man, I just wanted to get some breakfast if it’s—what? Do I want what? I didn’t quite get that—à la carte? No, thanks—and, what’s that? table de what? in the palm room? No, I just wanted—but it doesn’t matter. I’ll wait ’round here and look about till I hear the gong. Don’t worry about me.

What’s that? What’s that boy shouting out—that boy with the tray? A call for Mr. Something or Other—say, must be something happened pretty serious! A call for Mr.—why, that’s for me! Hullo! Here I am! Here, it’s Me! Here I am—wanted at the desk? all right, I’m coming, I’m hurrying. I guess something’s wrong at home, eh! Here I am. That’s my name. I’m ready.

Oh, a room. You’ve got a room for me. All right. The fifteenth floor! Good heavens! Away up there! Never mind, I’ll take it. Can’t give me a bath? That’s all right. I had one.

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