"St. Louis is a good town. You hear me! The soup season aint commenced yet. But they set boss free lunches!" And the professional rolled his eyes as he mentioned the delights of the Future Great City.
"I'm much obliged to you for the information, I'm sure," replied Ben. "But what troubles me just at present is to cross this ferry."
"To cross the ferry?"
"Yes."
"Poh! That's the easiest thing in the world. Go give 'em a racket. Go to the wagon gate, I would. The box man's too busy to attend to you. Tell the man there you just had your pocket picked and must get over in time to catch the Elizabeth train. Tell him you'll pay him when you come back in the morning. Your clothes will carry you through." And the shoemaker smiled on Ben's wardrobe approvingly.
"Thanks for your advice; but to be frank, I had rather not tell what is not so."
The eyes of the professional opened to their widest extent.
"Gosh! Where'd you say you were a going? New Orleans! Well, mebbe you'll get there—mebbe not. See here, was that a stiff you was givin' me?"
Ben replied that he did not fully comprehend what a "stiff" might be, but he assured his interlocutor that he was sincere relative to a due regard for the truth.
The shoemaker was evidently puzzled. He could not understand the moral that could prevent a man from attaining a convenience within the reach of a lie. But his astonishment was tinctured with a respect for a virtue he could not comprehend.