Half of your Benevolent Bisons are here on the
European plan, with a view to patronizing the free-lunch counters or
being asked to take dinner at the home of some local Bison whose wife
has been cooking up on pies, and chicken salad and veal roast for the
last week."
[Illustration: "'Son!' echoed the clerk, staring"]
Emma McChesney leaned over the desk a little, and lowered her voice to
the tone of confidence. "Now, I'm not in the habit of making a
nuisance of myself like this. I don't get so chatty as a rule, and I
know that I could jump over to Monmouth and get first-class
accommodations there. But just this once I've a good reason for
wanting to make you and myself a little miserable. Y'see, my son is
traveling with me this trip."
"Son!" echoed the clerk, staring.
"Thanks. That's what they all do. After a while I'll begin to believe
that there must be something hauntingly beautiful and girlish about me
or every one wouldn't petrify when I announce that I've a six-foot son
attached to my apron-strings.
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