The driver sat up at that and looked at the doubled up thickness of that member of Rachel’s anatomy. Then he said: “But I always gits that much a head fer such a long trip.”
“What’s the matter here?” demanded Natalie, coming up to join in the argument.
“Chile, dis highway robber wants to take fifty cents a haid fer takin’ us acrost to Green Hill Fahm. Why, it ain’t no furder’n f’om heah t’ dere, an’ I tells him it is stealin’. In Noo York sech profiteers gits what’s comin’ t’ ’em.”
Mrs. James interpolated at this. “Fifty cents each is not too much, Rachel. But he must take the luggage as well.”
The colored woman retreated at that, and cabby chuckled. “How much baggage?”
“Three suit-cases and these bags and hat-boxes.”
“I don’t see no suit-cases,” mumbled he.
“You would, if you had been at the station where you belong. The station-man took the checks and turned the bags over to us before going away to enjoy himself until the next train comes in,” retorted Natalie, impatiently.
“All right; I’ll wait fer yuh ’til yuh git back,” agreed the driver, preparing to take things easy again.
“See here,” said Mrs. James, sternly. “Are you Amity Ketchum?”