"Good morning; good morning!" he greeted them, genially. "I trust you have slept well."
Somewhat surprised they stammered back a sort of response.
"I want you to try these oranges," the Colonel swept on. "They are of exceptionally fine stock—budded direct from the original Bahia trees. And, madam, permit me to offer you a little sample of our California flowers to greet you this morning."
And the Colonel bowed most gallantly and withdrew. A moment later the tourists might have been observed making low-toned inquiries of the waitress.
But now the guests were arriving frequently. The Colonel was very busy with his fruit and his bouquets. The latter he presented only to the ladies. To almost everybody he and his bi-weekly custom were well known. Then people came west to spend the winter, and settled down in one place. The season was now nearly over as the pleasantest time of the year approached! Colonel Peyton was among old acquaintances, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself. With each he had time for only a word or so, but he managed always to flatter the ladies!
"You are a bad old man!" said one white haired and stately dowager, "and I am half-minded to make you take back your nosegay!"
"The blossoms are blameless, at least," quoth the Colonel, "why punish them?"
At the round table in the middle of the room reserved for unattached men, a discontented looking flashily dressed new-comer expressed his surprise at the whole performance, wondering among other things why the Colonel did it or was permitted to do it.
"Well," drawled a lank Middle-Westerner with a toothpick. "He's allowed to because he owns this hotel."
"Oh, I see," sneered the first speaker. "Slick advertising, eh?"
It might have been good advertising, but any one watching the Colonel would have realized that he was enjoying it thoroughly. His face beamed, his eyes glowed, his old-fashioned manners became more elaborate, his wit and compliments more spontaneous. He sailed on a flood tide of goodfeeling. The Middle-Westerner expressed something of this.
