CHAPTER XXIA CASE OF NERVES
The "hotel" at the Crossing was not an imposing affair. Indeed, hadthere not been an "office" in the front room, with a wooden desk in onecorner, six chairs and two boxes of sawdust to serve as cuspidors, thebuilding might easily have been mistaken for a private residence. Butit stood on the corner opposite the store and had a worn and scarcelylegible sign over the front door, calling it a hotel in capitalletters.
The Hoppers, who operated the establishment, did an excellent business.On week days the farmers who came to town to trade made it a point toeat one of Silas Hopper's twenty-five cent dinners, famous for at leastfive miles around for profusion and good cookery. On Sundays--andsometimes on other days--an automobile party, touring the country,would stop at the hotel for a meal, and Mrs. Hopper was accustomed tohave a chicken dinner prepared every Sunday in the hope of attracting astray tourist. There were two guest rooms upstairs that werereligiously reserved in case some patron wished to stay overnight, butthese instances were rare unless a drummer missed his train andcouldn't get away from the Crossing until the next day.
The Sunday following the arrival of Ingua's mother in town proved adull day with the Hoppers, who had been compelled to eat their chickendinner themselves in default of customers. The dishes had been washedand Mary Ann, the daughter of the house, was sitting on the front porchin her Sunday gown and a rocking-chair, when an automobile drove up tothe door and a dapper little man alighted. He was very elaboratelydressed, with silk hat, patent-leather shoes and a cane setting off hisPrince Albert coat and lavender striped trousers. Across his whitewaistcoat was a heavy gold watch-guard with an enormous locket danglingfrom it; he had a sparkling pin in his checkered neck-scarf that mightbe set with diamonds but perhaps wasn't; on his fingers gleamed two orthree elaborate rings. He had curly blond hair and a blond moustacheand he wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses. Altogether the little man was quitea dandy and radiated prosperity. So, when the driver of the automobilehanded out two heavy suit cases and received from the stranger a crispbill for his services, Mary Ann Hopper realized with exultation thatthe hotel was to have a guest.
As the car which had brought him rolled away the little man turned,observed Mary Ann, and removing his silt hat bowed low.
"I presume," said he in precise accents, "that this town is that ofCragg's Crossing, and that this building is the hotel. Am I correct inthe surmise?"
"I'll call Pa," said Mary Ann, somewhat embarrassed. Drummers she couldgreet with unconcern, but this important individual was a man of adifferent sort. His brilliant personality dazzled her.
Mr. Hopper came out in his shirtsleeves, gave one look at his customerand put on his coat.
"Goin' to stay, sir?" he asked.
"For a time, if I like the accommodations," was the reply. "I am inneed of perfect quiet. My doctor says I must court tranquility to avoida nervous breakdown. I do not know your town; I do not know your hotel;I hired a man in the city to drive me until I came to a quiet place. Heassured me, on the way, that this is a quiet place."
"I dunno him," said Hopper, "but he didn't put up no bluff. If ye canfind a quieter place ner this, outside a graveyard, I'll board ye fernoth'n'."
"I thank you for your assurance, sir. Can you show me to the best roomyou can place at my disposal?"
"Had dinner?"
"I thank you, yes. I am weary from the long ride. I will lie down foran hour. Then I will take my usual walk. When I return I would like anomelet with mushrooms--I suppose you have no truffles?--for my eveningmeal."
The landlord grinned and picked up the suit cases.
"We're jest out o' truffles an' we're out o' mushrooms," he said, "butwe're long on eggs an' ye can have 'em omeletted or fried or b'iled, asit suits yer fancy. Sophie's best hold is cookin' eggs. Sophie's mywife, ye know, an' there ain't no better cook in seven counties, so thedrummers say."
As he spoke he entered the house and led the way up the stairs.
"Thank you; thank you," said the stranger. "I am glad your good wife isan experienced cook. Kindly ask her to spare no expense in preparing mymeals. I am willing to pay liberally for what I receive."
"This room, with board," remarked Hopper, setting down the suit casesin the front corner bedchamber, "will cost you a dollar a day, or fivedollars a week--if you eat our reg'lar meals. If ye keep callin' ferextrys, I'll hev to charge ye extry."
"Very reasonable; very reasonable, indeed," declared the stranger,taking a roll of bills from his pocket. "As I am at present unknown toyou, I beg you to accept this five-dollar bill in advance. And now, ifyou will bring me a pitcher of ice-water, I will take my needed siesta.My nerves, as you may have observed, are at somewhat of a tensionto-day."
"We're out o' ice," remarked the landlord, pocketing the money, "butye'll find plenty of good cold water at the pump in the back yard.Anything else, sir?"
"I thank you, no. I am not thirsty. Ice-water is not necessary to myhappiness. You will pardon me if I ask to be left alone--with mynerves."
Hopper went away chuckling. His wife and Mary Ann were both at the footof the stairs, lying in wait to question him.
"That feller's as good as a circus," he asserted, taking off his coatagain and lighting his corncob pipe. "He's got nerves an' money, an'he's come here to git rid of 'em both."
"Who is he?" demanded Mrs. Hopper.
"By gum, I fergot to ask him. I got thanked fer ev'rything I did an'ev'rything I couldn't do, an' I've got five dollars o' his money in myjeans as a evidence o' good faith. The whole performance sort o'knocked me out."
"No wonder," asserted, his wife sympathetically.
"I'll bet he's some punkins, though," declared Mary Ann, "an' he'll bea godsend to us after a dull week. Only, remember this, if he kicks onthe feed he don't git no satisfaction out o' me."
"I don't think he'll kick on anything," said her father. "He wants eggsfor his supper, in a omelet."
"He couldn't want anything that's cheaper to make," said Mrs. Hopper."The hens are layin' fine jus' now."
"When he comes down, make him register," suggested Mary Ann. "If yedon't, we won't know what ter call him."
"I'll call him an easy mark, whatever his name is," said the landlord,grinning at his own attempt at wit.
The stranger kept his room until five o'clock. Then he came down, spickand span, his cane under his arm, upon his hands a pair of brightyellow kid gloves.
"I will now indulge in my walk," said he, addressing the family groupin the office. "My nerves are better, but still vibrant. I shall befurther restored on my return."
"Jest sign the register," proposed Hopper, pointing to a worn andsoiled book spread upon the counter. "Hate to trouble ye, but it's oneo' the rules o' my hotel."
"No trouble, thank you; no trouble at all," responded the stranger, anddrawing a fountain-pen from his pocket he approached the register andwrote upon the blank page. "I hope there is, nothing to see in yourtown," he remarked, turning away. "I don't wish to see anything. Imerely desire to walk."
"Yer wish'll come true, I guess," said Hopper. "I've lived here overtwenty year an' I hain't seen noth'n' yet. But the walkin' is as goodas it is anywhere."
"Thank you. I shall return at six o'clock--for the omelet," and hewalked away with short, mincing steps that seemed to them all verycomical.
Three heads at once bent over the register, on which the stranger had Iwritten in clear, delicate characters: "Lysander Antonius Sinclair, B.N., Boston, Mass."
"I wonder what the 'B. N.' stands for," said Mary Ann Hopper,curiously.
"Bum Nerves, o' course," replied the landlord. "He's got 'em, sureenough."