Struggling Upward, or Luke Larkin's Luck, Jr. Horatio Alger [spiritual books to read txt] 📗

single penny. He had no doubt that he should be paid liberally for his time, and he didn't care to make anything by extra means.

The Ottawa House was nearly a mile and a half distant. It was on one of the lower streets, near the lake. It was a plain building with accommodations for perhaps a hundred and fifty guests. This would be large for a country town or small city, but it indicated a hotel of the third class in Chicago. I may as well say here, however, that it was a perfectly respectable and honestly conducted hotel, notwithstanding it was selected by Mr. Coleman, who could not with truth be complimented so highly. I will also add that Mr. Coleman's selection of the Ottawa, in place of a more pretentious hotel, arose from the fear that in the latter he might meet someone who knew him, and who would warn Luke of his undesirable reputation.

Jumping out of the hack, J. Madison Coleman led the way into the hotel, and, taking pen in hand, recorded his name in large, flourishing letters—as from New York.

Then he handed the pen to Luke, who registered himself also from New York.

"Give us a room together," he said to the clerk.

Luke did not altogether like this arrangement, but hardly felt like objecting. He did not wish to hurt the feelings of J. Madison Coleman, yet he considered that, having known him only six hours, it was somewhat imprudent to allow such intimacy. But he who hesitates is lost, and before Luke had made up his mind whether to object or not, he was already part way upstairs—there was no elevator—following the bellboy, who carried his luggage.

The room, which was on the fourth floor, was of good size, and contained two beds. So far so good. After the ride he wished to wash and put on clean clothes. Mr. Coleman did not think this necessary, and saying to Luke that he would find him downstairs, he left our hero alone.

"I wish I had a room alone," thought Luke. "I should like it much better, but I don't want to offend Coleman. I've got eighty dollars in my pocketbook, and though, of course, he is all right, I don't want to take any risks."

On the door he read the regulations of the hotel. One item attracted his attention. It was this:

"The proprietors wish distinctly to state that they will not be responsible for money or valuables unless left with the clerk to be deposited in the safe."

Luke had not been accustomed to stopping at hotels, and did not know that this was the usual custom. It struck him, however, as an excellent arrangement, and he resolved to avail himself of it.

When he went downstairs he didn't see Mr. Coleman.

"Your friend has gone out," said the clerk. "He wished me to say that he would be back in half an hour."

"All right," answered Luke. "Can I leave my pocketbook with you?"

"Certainly."

The clerk wrapped it up in a piece of brown paper and put it away in the safe at the rear of the office, marking it with Luke's name and the number of his room.

"There, that's safe!" thought Luke, with a feeling of relief. He had reserved about three dollars, as he might have occasion to spend a little money in the course of the evening. If he were robbed of this small amount it would not much matter.

A newsboy came in with an evening paper. Luke bought a copy and sat down on a bench in the office, near a window. He was reading busily, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Looking up, he saw that it was his roommate, J. Madison Coleman.

"I've just been taking a little walk," he said, "and now I am ready for dinner. If you are, too, let us go into the dining-room."

Luke was glad to accept this proposal, his long journey having given him a good appetite.