“Hack, sir?” said a voice.
“Not for me,” replied Bob. “But you can tote this up the hill,” indicating the grip. “Ralston house.”
“Dollar and a half, sir,” said the man. “Same price if you go along, too.”
“What?” It just occurred to Bob he hadn’t many dollars left, and of course, tips would be expected up there, at the big house. It behooved him, therefore, to be frugal. But to argue about a dollar and a half!—he, a guest at the several million dollar house! On the other hand, that dollar looked large to Bob at this moment. Imagine if he had to earn a dollar and a half! He couldn’t at the moment tell how he would do it.
“Hold on.” Bob took the grip away from the man. “Why, it’s outrageous, such a tariff! Same price, with or without me, indeed! I tell you—” Suddenly he stopped. He had an awful realization that he was acting a part. That forced indignation of his was not the truth; that aloof kind of an attitude wasn’t the truth, either.
“To tell you the truth,” said Bob, “I can’t afford it.”
“Can’t afford. Ha! ha!” That was a joke. One of Mrs. Ralston’s guests, not afford—!
“No,” said Bob. “I’ve only got about fifteen dollars and a half to my name. I guess you’re worth more than that yourself, aren’t you?” With sudden respect in his tone.
“I guess I am,” said the man, grinning.
“Then, logically, I should be carrying your valise,” retorted Bob.