"You're a sassy boy!" said the owner of the carpet-bag, indignantly. "I don't see how I'm going to get up to Seraphiny's," she continued, complainingly. "They'd ought to have come down to meet me. How much will you charge to carry my carpet-bag, and show me the way to my darter's?"
"Fifty cents!" repeated the old lady, aghast. "I didn't think you'd charge more'n ten."
"I have to," said Ben. "Board's high in New York."
"How much would they charge me in a carriage? Here you, sir," addressing a hackman, "what'll you charge to carry me to my darter's house, Mrs. John Jones, in Bleecker Street?"
"What's the number?"
"I think it's a hundred and sixty-three."
"A dollar and a half."
"A dollar 'n' a half? Couldn't you do it for less?"
"Carry your bag, sir?" asked Ben, of a gentleman passing.