He had not long to wait. The boat bumped against the wharf, and directly a crowd of passengers poured through the open gates in a continuous stream.
Ben looked sharply around him to judge who would be likely to employ him. His attention was drawn to an elderly lady, with a large carpet-bag swelled almost to bursting. She was looking about her in a bewildered manner.
"Carry your bag, ma'am?" he said, at the same time motioning towards it.
"Who be you?" asked the old lady, suspiciously.
"I'm a baggage-smasher," said Ben.
"Then I don't want you," answered the old lady, clinging to her bag as if she feared it would be wrested from her. "I'm surprised that the law allows sich things. You might be in a better business, young man, than smashing baggage."
"That's where you're right, old lady," said Ben.
"Bankin' would pay better, if I only had the money to start on."
"Are you much acquainted in New York?" asked the old lady.
"Yes," said Ben; "I know the mayor 'n' aldermen, 'n' all the principal men. A. T. Stooart's my intimate friend, and I dine with Vanderbilt every Sunday when I aint engaged at Astor's."