It has
a curious arrangement for supplying water in the rooms which I never
can recall with any degree of pleasure. One evening after I had
dressed I went to the wash-stand and discovered that there was no
water. I was madly ringing for the chambermaid when my companion
called from her room, and said, "Put your foot on that brass thing.
There is plenty of water."
I looked down, and near the floor was a brass pedal, like that of a
piano. Sure enough, there was a reservoir above and a faucet with the
head of a dragon on it peering up into my face, which I never had
noticed before. Now, the pedal of my piano works hard, so I bent all
my strength to this one, and lo! from that impudent dragon's mouth I
got a mighty stream of water straight in my unconscious face, and
enough to put out a fire. I fell back with a shriek of astonishment
and indignation, and my companion laughed--nay, she roared. She laughs
until she cries even now every time she thinks of it, although I had
to change my gown. How was _I_ going to know that I was leaning over a
waterspout, I should like to know!
In this same hotel when I asked for a blotter they brought me a box of
sand.
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