“Two dollars a day.”

“A day?” asked Joe, in amazement.

It must be remembered that this was over fifty years ago.  Joe would have greater cause to be startled at the prices now asked at our fashionable hotels.

“Well, you can go to the cheap hotel.”

“Where is it?”

The requisite directions were given.  It was the Commercial Hotel, located in a down-town street.

The Commercial Hotel, now passed away, or doing business under a changed name, was not a stylish inn.

It was rather dark and rather dingy, but Joe did not notice that particularly.  He had never seen a fine hotel, and this structure, being four stories in height above the offices, seemed to him rather imposing than otherwise.

He walked up to the desk, on which was spread out, wide open, the hotel register.  Rather a dissipated-looking clerk stood behind the counter, picking his teeth.

“Good morning, sir,” said Joe politely.  “What do you charge to stay here?”

“A dollar a day,” answered the clerk.

“Can you give me a room?”

“I guess so, my son.  Where is your trunk?”

“I haven’t got any.”

“Haven’t you got any baggage?”

“Here it is.”

The clerk looked rather superciliously at the small bundle.

“Then you’ll have to pay in advance.”

“All right,” said Joe.  “I’ll pay a day in advance.”

A freckle-faced boy was summoned, provided with the key of No. 161, and Joe was directed to follow him.

“Shall I take your bundle?” he asked.

“No, thank you.  I can carry it myself.”

They went up-stairs, until Joe wondered when they were going to stop.  Finally the boy paused at the top floor, for the very good reason that he could get no higher, and opened the door of 161.

“There you are,” said the boy.  “Is there anything else you want?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’m sorry there ain’t a bureau to keep your clothes,” said the freckle-faced boy, glancing at Joe’s small bundle with a smile.

“It is inconvenient,” answered Joe, taking the joke.

“You wouldn’t like some hot water for shaving, would you?” asked the boy, with a grin.

“You can have some put on to heat and I’ll order it when my beard is grown,” said Joe good-naturedly.

“All right.  I’ll tell ’em to be sure and have it ready in two or three years.”

“That will be soon enough.  You’d better order some for yourself at the same time.”

“Oh, I get in hot water every day.”

The freckle-faced boy disappeared, and Joe sat down on the bed, to reflect a little on his position and plans.

So here he was in New York, and on the way to California, too—­that is, he hoped so.  How much can happen in a little while.  Three days before he had not dreamed of any change in his position.