e moved into a Hotel that had $40,000 worth of Paintings on the
First Floor, so that no one had a right to kick even if the Push Button
failed to work. All the Furniture was Louie Something. You take an
ex-Farm-Hand and let him sit in a Gold Chair with Satin Monogram that is
too Nice to lean against, and you can see at a Glance that he is sure
enjoying himself. Ranse now began to go against the a la Carte Gag. The
Menu was prepared by a Near-French Chef. For Fear that People might find
Fault with the Food he always smothered it and covered it over with Goo.

Ranse began to find out that Goulasch meant Boiled Dinner with Perfumery
in it, and also that there were seven different names for Hash. The only
Thing that saved it from being Hash was the Piece of Lemon Peel tucked
on the Side.

Ranse was not very strong for the French Cooking. Sometimes he would
find himself Chicken-Hungry and he would order what he thought was
Chicken and he would get a half section of cold storage Poulet covered
with Armor Plate, a neat Ruffle around the Ankle and an Olive reposing
on the Bosom. If he ordered Ice Cream he got something resembling a
sample Paper Weight from the Quarries at Bedford, Indiana. And the
Buckwheat Cakes! They looked like Doilies and tasted like Blotters. And
the Demi-Tasse is an Awful Joke to spring on the Man who wants a Cup of
Coffee.

Here was the Hon. Ransom, rich and prosperous and apparently happy, but
in reality he was Dead Sore. Things appeared to be coming very Soft for
him and yet that which he wanted most of all he could not get. He wanted
the real old simon-pure Home Cooking: He recalled the Happy Days of Bean
Soup and Punkin Pie and Cottage Cheese. Time and again he would see one
of those old Friends on a Score-Card in a Restaurant and he would order
it and get some Fake Imitation with Smilax all around the edges. So,
after a while, he became discouraged and ate all the Junk that was set
before him--Dope, Lemon Peel, Floral Decoration and all.

Often he would go to Banquets that cost as much as Ten a Throw. He
would dally with Fish that had Glue Dressing on top of it and Golf Balls
lying alongside. He would tackle Siberian Slush that had Hair Tonic
floating on top of it. Then the Petrified Quail and the Cheese that
should have been served in 1884. Often, sitting at these Magnificent
Spreads, he thought to himself that he would willingly trade all the
Tiffany Water on the Table for one Goblet of real Bu