"They're both pretty fair houses." Lemuel looked round at
the mention of the aristocratic hostelries to see if the conductor
was joking. He owned to something of the kind by adding, "There's a
little hotel, if you want something quieter, that ain't a great ways
from here." He gave the name of the hotel, and told Lemuel how to
find it.
"Thank you," said Lemuel. "I guess I'll get off here, then. Well,
good evening."
"Guess I'll have to get another nickel from you," said the
conductor, snapping his bell. "New trip," he explained.
"Oh," said Lemuel, paying. It seemed to him a short ride for five
cents.
He got off, and as the conductor started up the car, he called
forward through it to the driver, "Wanted to try for conductor, I
guess. But I guess the seventy-five dollars capital settled that
little point for him."
Lemuel heard the voice but not the words. He felt his bag heavy in
his hand as he walked away in the direction the conductor had given
him, and he did not set it down when he stood hesitating in front of
the hotel; it looked like too expensive a place for him, with its
stained-glass door, and its bulk hoisted high into the air. He
walked by the hotel, and then he came back to it, and mustered
courage to go in. His bag, if not superb, looked a great deal more
like baggage than the lank sack which he had come to Boston with; he
had bought it only a few days before, in hopes of going home before
long; he set it down with some confidence on the tesselated floor of
cheap marble, and when a shirt-sleeved, drowsy-eyed, young man came
out of a little room or booth near the door, where there was a desk,
and a row of bells, and a board with keys, hanging from the wall
above it, Lemuel said quite boldly that he would like a room.
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