At length, with a final jar and jerk
the machine sprang forward, and for the rest of the journey Morris' mind
was emptied of every other apprehension save that engendered of passing
trucks or street cars. Finally, the machine drew up in front of the
Prince William and Morris scrambled out, trembling in every limb. He
made at once for the clerk's desk.
"Please send this to Miss Isaacson," he said, handing out a firm card.
The clerk consulted an index and shook his head. "No Miss Isaacson
registered here," he said.
"Oh, sure not," Morris cried, smiling apologetically. "I mean Miss
Aaronson."
Once more the clerk pawed over his card index. "You've got the wrong
hotel," he declared. "I don't see any Miss Aaronson here, either."
Morris scratched his head. He mentally passed in review Jacobson,
Abrahamson, and every other Biblical proper name combined with the
suffix "son," but rejected them all.
"The lady what I want to see it is buyer for a department store in
Duluth, what arrived here this morning," Morris explained.
"Let me see," the clerk mused; "buyer, hey? What was she a buyer of?"
"Cloaks and suits," Morris answered.
"Suits, hey?" the clerk commented. "Let me see--buyer of suits. Was that
the lady that was expecting somebody with an automobile?"
Morris nodded emphatically.
"Well, that party called for her and they left here about ten minutes
ago," the clerk replied.
"What!" Morris gasped.
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