"Are such things expensive, sir?" the latter asked the landlord.

"Why, we don't eat 'em ourselves, 'n' thet's a cold fact. Eggs is
eggs, an' brings forty cents a dozen to ship. There's seven cows
in town, 'n' forty-one babies, so yeh kin figger what fresh milk's
worth."

"Perhaps," said Uncle John mildly, "we can stand the expense--if we
won't rob the babies."

"Don't worry 'bout thet. The last autymobble folks as come this way
got hot because I charged 'em market prices fer the truck they et. So
I'm jest inquirin' beforehand, to save hard feelin's. I've found out
one thing 'bout autymobble folks sense I've ben runnin' this hoe-tel,
an' thet is thet a good many is ownin' machines thet oughter be payin'
their bills instid o' buyin' gasoline."

The Major took him aside. He did not tell the cautious landlord that
Mr. Merrick was one of the wealthiest men in America, but he exhibited
a roll of bills that satisfied the man his demands would be paid in
full.

The touring; party feasted upon eggs and fresh milk, both very
delicious but accompanied by odds and ends of food not so palatable.
The landlord's two daughters, sallow, sunken cheeked girls, waited on
the guests and the landlord's wife did the cooking.

Beth, Patsy and Myrtle retired early, as did Uncle John. The Major,
smoking his "bedtime cigar," as he called it, strolled out into the