"Well, I'm glad on't," retorted Frank, hardly looking up from his work, "for I ha'n't."
"Look here!" said Chip, entering, "you're the man I've been looking for.
I must have a ride to Captain Grant's, straight off, at your own price."
"Maybe you must, but I'm goin' to the Concord cattle-show, and Captain
Grant's is four miles out of the way. I can't think of goin' round, for
I shall be too late, any way."
"Never mind that, my young friend, if you 'r' 'n such a hurry, put on the string and look to me for the damage."
"Maybe you can't pay it," replied Frank, looking rather scornful.
"The Devil!" exclaimed Chip, "are all the Waltham people born idiots?"
"No! some of 'em are born governors," said Frank, "and Boston people may find it out one of these days."
On this, Landlady Birch intervened, taking the bar-room in her way from the parlor to the kitchen.
"What is that you say, Frank? The gentleman can have as good a breakfast here as he can have anywhere out of Boston, I'm sure, though I say it myself. We don't have so many to cook for, and so, perhaps, we take a little more pains, Sir,—ha! ha!"
And with that good Mrs. Birch put on a graciousness of smile worthy of the most experienced female Boniface in Anglo-Saxondom.