"You don't say so," says I. "Is that the man who has raised the price of lime and whiting to such an extent?"
"That's the very man."
"Dear me! and he eats brains—cheesey at that. I never saw anything like it."
"Oh, that is a very popular dish, ma'am."
"With Congressmen?"
"Yes, ma'am, with Congressmen."
"Especially?"
"Especially."
"I shouldn't wonder," says I.
When I hitched my chair back, and took up my satchel, the man put a bit of stiff paper in my hands, with some figures on it. I thanked him and went out, feeling a little lighter than I had done, on account of the cider. The young man followed me a step or two, and seemed as if he wanted to say something; but that was a familiarity I had no idea of encouraging; so I passed on, determined to find the other kitchen departments, and set up a private investigation of my own. But at the foot of a flight of stairs, all made of spotted marble, I met Cousin Dempster, who was looking for me.