Rodick’s is a sort of big boarding-house, hesitating whether to be a hotel or not, no bells in the rooms, no bills of fare (or rarely one), no wine-list, a go-as-you-please, help-yourself sort of place, which is popular because it has its own character, and everybody drifts into it first or last.  Some say it is an acquired taste; that people do not take to it at first.  The big office is a sort of assembly-room, where new arrivals are scanned and discovered, and it is unblushingly called the “fish-pond” by the young ladies who daily angle there.  Of the unconventional ways of the establishment Mr. King had an illustration when he attempted to get some washing done.  Having read a notice that the hotel had no laundry, he was told, on applying at the office, that if he would bring his things down there they would try to send them out for him.  Not being accustomed to carrying about soiled clothes, he declined this proposal, and consulted a chambermaid.  She told him that ladies came to the house every day for the washing, and that she would speak to one of them.  No result following this, after a day King consulted the proprietor, and asked him point blank, as a friend, what course he would pursue if he were under the necessity of having washing done in that region.  The proprietor said that Mr. King’s wants should be attended to at once.  Another day passed without action, when the chambermaid was again applied to.  “There’s a lady just come in to the hall I guess will do it.”

“Is she trustworthy?”

“Don’t know, she washes for the woman in the room next to you.”  And the lady was at last secured.

Somebody said that those who were accustomed to luxury at home liked Rodick’s, and that those who were not grumbled.  And it was true that fashion for the moment elected to be pleased with unconventionality, finding a great zest in freedom, and making a joke of every inconvenience.  Society will make its own rules, and although there are several other large hotels, and good houses as watering-place hotels go, and cottage-life here as elsewhere is drawing away its skirts from hotel life, society understood why a person might elect to stay at Rodick’s.  Bar Harbor has one of the most dainty and refined little hotels in the world-the Malvern.  Any one can stay there who is worth two millions of dollars, or can produce a certificate from the Recorder of New York that he is a direct descendant of Hendrick Hudson or Diedrich Knickerbocker.  It is needless to say that it was built by a Philadelphian—­that is to say one born with a genius for hotel-keeping.  But though a guest at the Malvern might not eat with a friend at Rodick’s, he will meet him as a man of the world on friendly terms.