Carrie recognized the name as standing for one of the newest and most imposing hostelries.  She had heard it spoken of as having a splendid restaurant.

“Just so,” went on Mr. Withers, accepting her acknowledgment of familiarity.  “We have some very elegant rooms at present which we would like to have you look at, if you have not made up your mind where you intend to reside for the summer.  Our apartments are perfect in every detail—­hot and cold water, private baths, special hall service for every floor, elevators, and all that.  You know what our restaurant is.”

Carrie looked at him quietly.  She was wondering whether he took her to be a millionaire.

“What are your rates?” she inquired.

“Well, now, that is what I came to talk with you privately about.  Our regular rates are anywhere from three to fifty dollars a day.”

“Mercy!” interrupted Carrie.  “I couldn’t pay any such rate as that.”

“I know how you feel about it,” exclaimed Mr. Withers, halting.  “But just let me explain.  I said those are our regular rates.  Like every other hotel we make special ones however.  Possibly you have not thought about it, but your name is worth something to us.”  “Oh!” ejaculated Carrie, seeing at a glance.

“Of course.  Every hotel depends upon the repute of its patrons.  A well-known actress like yourself,” and he bowed politely, while Carrie flushed, “draws attention to the hotel, and—­although you may not believe it—­patrons.”

“Oh, yes,” returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to arrange this curious proposition in her mind.

“Now,” continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby hat softly and beating one of his polished shoes upon the floor, “I want to arrange, if possible, to have you come and stop at the Wellington.  You need not trouble about terms.  In fact, we need hardly discuss them.  Anything will do for the summer—­a mere figure—­anything that you think you could afford to pay.”

Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no chance.

“You can come to-day or to-morrow—­the earlier the better—­and we will give you your choice of nice, light, outside rooms—­the very best we have.”

“You’re very kind,” said Carrie, touched by the agent’s extreme affability.  “I should like to come very much.  I would want to pay what is right, however.  I shouldn’t want to——­”

“You need not trouble about that at all,” interrupted Mr. Withers.  “We can arrange that to your entire satisfaction at any time.  If three dollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will be so to us.  All you have to do is to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of the week or month, just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt for what the rooms would cost if charged for at our regular rates.”

The speaker paused.

“Suppose you come and look at the rooms,” he added.

“I’d be glad to,” said Carrie, “but I have a rehearsal this morning.”