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The Goddess of Excelsior
by
“And you see,” said Clint Grey, “it’s jest the sort o’ rig in which a man would be most likely to know her–and not in her war-paint, which would be only now and then.”
Already “SHE” had become an individuality!
“Hush!” said the president. He had turned towards the door, at which some one was knocking lightly.
“Come in.”
The door opened upon Miss Marsh, secretary and hotel assistant. She had a business aspect, and an open letter in her hand, but hesitated at the evident confusion she had occasioned. Two of the gentlemen had absolutely blushed, and the others regarded her with inane smiles or affected seriousness. They all coughed slightly.
“I beg your pardon,” she said, not ungracefully, a slight color coming into her sallow cheek, which, in conjunction with the gold eye-glasses, gave her, at least in the eyes of the impressible Clint, a certain piquancy. “But my father said you were here in committee and I might consult you. I can come again, if you are busy.”
She had addressed the president, partly from his office, his comparatively extreme age–he must have been at least thirty!–and possibly for his extremer good looks. He said hurriedly, “It’s just an informal meeting;” and then, more politely, “What can we do for you?”
“We have an application for a suite of rooms next week,” she said, referring to the letter, “and as we shall be rather full, father thought you gentlemen might be willing to take another larger room for your meetings, and give up these, which are part of a suite– and perhaps not exactly suitable”–
“Quite impossible!” “Quite so!” “Really out of the question,” said the members, in a rapid chorus.
The young girl was evidently taken aback at this unanimity of opposition. She stared at them curiously, and then glanced around the room. “We’re quite comfortable here,” said the president explanatorily, “and–in fact–it’s just what we want.”
“We could give you a closet like that which you could lock up, and a mirror,” she suggested, with the faintest trace of a smile.
“Tell your father, Miss Marsh,” said the president, with dignified politeness, “that while we cannot submit to any change, we fully appreciate his business foresight, and are quite prepared to see that the hotel is properly compensated for our retaining these rooms.” As the young girl withdrew with a puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed his back against it, and said,–
“What the deuce did she mean by speaking of that closet?”
“Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy drinks in there,” said Trigg; “and calkilated that we wanted the marble stand and mirror to put our glasses on and make it look like a swell private bar, that’s all!”
“Humph,” said the president.
Their next meeting, however, was a hurried one, and as the president arrived late, when the door closed smartly behind him he was met by the worried faces of his colleagues.
“Here’s a go!” said Trigg excitedly, producing a folded paper. “The game’s up, the hull show is busted; that cussed old statue– the reg’lar old hag herself–is on her way here! There’s a bill o’ lading and the express company’s letter, and she’ll be trundled down here by express at any moment.”
“Well?” said the president quietly.
“Well!” replied the members aghast. “Do you know what that means?”
“That we must rig her up in the hall on a pedestal, as we reckoned to do,” returned the president coolly.
“But you don’t sabe,” said Clinton Grey; “that’s all very well as to the hag, but now we must give HER up,” with an adoring glance towards the closet.
“Does the letter say so?”
“No,” said Trigg hesitatingly, “no! But I reckon we can’t keep BOTH.”
“Why not?” said the president imperturbably, “if we paid for ’em?”
As the men only stared in reply he condescended to explain.
“Look here! I calculated all these risks after our last meeting. While you boys were just fussin’ round, doin’ nothing, I wrote to the express company that a box of women’s damaged duds had arrived here, while we were looking for our statue; that you chaps were so riled at bein’ sold by them that you dumped the whole blamed thing in the creek. But I added, if they’d let me know what the damage was, I’d send ’em a draft to cover it. After a spell of waitin’ they said they’d call it square for two hundred dollars, considering our disappointment. And I sent the draft. That’s spurred them up to get over our statue, I reckon. And, now that it’s coming, it will set us right with the boys.”