HOTELS AND OTHERWISE 123 



primitive little places, homes of eggs and buttered 

 toast. 



One other hotel is stamped upon my memory. 

 It stands — well, somewhere by the sea in the west. 

 Its prospectus is as of the Ritz and the Castle 

 rolled into one. 



" Hotel motor, Frenchman cook, magnificent 

 rooms, baths." 



I went there from Dublin, for some fishing and 

 was duly met by the hotel motor, driven by a 

 discontented chauffeur. 



The upstairs servants appeared to have left in a 

 body, and the hotel was full. Wandering in a 

 small, dusty room I rang for hot water. After 

 half an hour I left to seek for it and command its 

 arrival. Presently a large brown hand held a jug 

 round the door. 



" Hot wather, miss," said the boots, " the bell 

 doesn't clap at all. The battery is off these many 

 days." 



That boots did everything ; he swept the 

 rooms ; I believe — in the late afternoons — that 

 he made the beds ; he was always wilHng to do 

 everything, except before dinner when one heard 

 that he was helping the " chief " in the kitchen. 



I might at least have slept soundly there, if six 

 chickens had not used my window-sill as their 

 roost, ajid started their opinion of the weather 

 at four a.m., to be knocked off squawking by a 

 maddened guest. 



