Mr. Smith, of course, was in his glory.

"What have you got to-day, Alf?" he would say, as he strolled over to
the marquis. The name of the Chief was, I believe Alphonse, but "Alf"
was near enough for Mr. Smith.

The marquis would extend to the proprietor the menu, "Voila, m'sieu,
la carte du jour."

Mr. Smith, by the way, encouraged the use of the French language in
the caff. He viewed it, of course, solely in its relation to the
hotel business, and, I think, regarded it as a recent invention.

"It's comin' in all the time in the city," he said, "and y'aint
expected to understand it."

Mr. Smith would take the carte between his finger and thumb and stare
at it. It was all covered with such devices as Potage la
Mariposa--Filet Mignon a la proprietaire--Cotellete a la Smith, and
so on.

But the greatest thing about the caff were the prices. Therein
lay, as everybody saw at once, the hopeless simplicity of Mr. Smith.

The prices stood fast at 25 cents a meal. You could come in and eat
all they had in the caff for a quarter.

"No, sir," Mr. Smith said stoutly, "I ain't going to try to raise no
prices on the public. The hotel's always been a quarter and the