“I—I b-beg y-your p-pardon,” he said, addressing the urchin with immense politeness, “but I—I a-assume you will r-receive a p-piece of silver for this brave action?”
“Come again,” said the urchin, who was not accustomed to this mode of address.
The boy contrived to grasp that his meaning was not understood.
“The s-street-p-per—t-the m-man on the—on the c-car will give you a p-piece of s-silver because you make the great horse stand still,” he stammered, in order to make it clearer.
“Piece o’ silver!” said the urchin derisively. “More likely to gimme a thick ear. Lucky if I git the price of a fag.”
The boy retired to the bottom step of the warehouse with this mysterious piece of information. With infinite pains he had mastered, as far as he was aware, all the coins in the currency; he had come to believe that he knew the appearance and purchasing power of them all, from the farthing to the sovereign, from the halfpenny stamp to the five-pound note. But he had never encountered “a thick ear,” or “the price of a fag,” in all his researches.
Timidly, reluctantly he went back to the urchin.
“I—I beg y-your p-pardon,” he said as courteously as before, “but w-would you m-mind informing me what is the monetary value of the price of a fag?”
“A nickel, o’ course,” said the urchin in a tone that seemed to indicate that further intercourse was not desired. He was disposed to resent the intrusion of a busybody into his personal and private affairs.
“A n-nickel,” said the boy blankly. “W-would you mind in-informing me wh-what is a nickel?”