"Am I drunk, boy?" asked Martin, appealing to Ben, whom he for the first time noticed.
"Of course you aint, gov'nor," said Ben. "You never did sich a thing in your life."
"What do you know about it?" demanded the woman. "It's my belief you're drunk yourself."
"Do you know who this gentleman is?" asked Ben, passing over the personal charge.
"No, I don't."
"He's President of the Fifth Avenue Temperance Society," said Ben, impressively. "He's just been drinking the health of his feller-officers in a glass of something stiff, round in Water Street, that's all."
The woman sniffed contemptuously, but, not deigning a reply, passed on.
"Who are you?" asked Martin, turning to Ben. "You're a good feller."
"That's so," said Ben. "That's what everybody says."
"So'm I a good feller," said Martin, whose recent potations must have been of considerable strength, to judge from their effects. "You know me."