§ 320 Hives, Perhaps, but No Honey
On their bridal tour the young couple went, as many young couples do on their bridal tours, to Washington. They stopped at one of the larger hotels. For two days they did the usual sight-seeing stunts. They visited the Capitol and the White House and they crossed over to Arlington and they ascended the Monument.
Early on the morning of the third day the husband remained in the room to write some letters. The bride ran out to do a little shopping. Half an hour later she returned. She had left the elevator at her floor and was passing through the long hallway when she discovered that she had forgotten her own room number. She was sure, though, she knew which was the right door, but, when she turned the knob and tried to enter, she found it locked.
She rapped on the panel.
“Let me in, honey,” she said. “I’m back.”
There was no reply.
She rapped again.
“Honey, oh, honey!” she called, “I want to get in.”
From the other side of the door came the voice of a strange man—a dignified and an austere voice:
“Madam, this is not a beehive; it is a bathroom.”