Baby! Dear little chit, she had not moved a hand since her mother left her. So, with a light heart, Bertha joined her husband in the kitchen.
They counted up the money, and subtracted what Bertha had started with. Happily for them, the Cosmopolitan had not then introduced the bell-punch, nor did it ever, so far as I know, introduce the bother of tickets. Max and Bertha followed in all regards the customs of the Cosmopolitan. The freight down town had been very large, the freight up had been light; but they were seven dollars and fifty-five cents richer than they were three hours before.
"How much money it looks like!" said Bertha. "Even with that old man's five-dollar bill, it makes so big a pile. I never saw two dollars in nickels before."
"I hope you may see a great many before you are done, my sweet," said Max cheerily.
"But is it fairly ours? Are you troubled about that?"
"I am sure we have worked for it," said Max, laughing. "I know I never worked so hard in my life, and I do not believe you ever did."
"No: if that were all."
"And is it not all? The car is bought with your money. The horses and their hay were bought with mine."
"But the rails," persisted Bertha, a little unfairly, as she had planned the whole.
"The rails," said Max coolly, "belong to the public. They are a part of the pavement of the street, as has been determined again and again. If I chose to have a coach built to run in the track, nobody could hinder me. This is my hackney-coach, and you and I are friends of the people."