"Yes," said Ben; "I know the mayor 'n' aldermen, 'n' all the principal men. A. T. Stooart's my intimate friend, and I dine with Vanderbilt every Sunday when I aint engaged at Astor's." "Do you wear them clo'es when you visit your fine friends?" asked the old lady, shrewdly. "No," said Ben. "Them are my every-day clo'es. I've got some velvet clo'es to home, embroidered with gold." "I believe you are telling fibs," said the old lady. "What I want to know is, if you know my darter, Mrs. John Jones; her first name is Seraphiny. She lives on Bleecker Street, and her husband, who is a nice man, though his head is bald on top, keeps a grocery store." "Of course I do," said Ben. "It was only yesterday that she told me her mother was comin' to see her. I might have knowed you was she." "How would you have knowed?" "Cause she told me just how you looked." "Did she? How did she say I looked?" "She said you was most ninety, and--" "It isn't true," said the old lady, indignantly. "I'm only seventy-three, and everybody says I'm wonderful young-lookin' for my years. I don't believe Seraphiny told you so." "She might have said you looked as if you was most ninety." "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," said Ben. "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. The gentleman shook his head. He made one or two other proposals, which being in like manner unsuccessful, he returned to the old lady, who, having by this time got through her negotiations with the hackman, whom she had vainly striven to beat down to seventy-five cents, was in a more favorable mood to accept Ben's services. "Can't you take less than fifty cents?" she asked. "No," said Ben, decidedly. "I'll give you forty." "Couldn't do it," said Ben, who felt sure of gaining his point now. "Well, I suppose I shall be obleeged to hire you," said the old lady with a sigh. "Seraphiny ought to have sent down to meet me. I didn't tell her I was comin' to-day; but she might have thought I'd come, bein' so pleasant. Here, you boy, you may take the bag, and mind you don't run away with it. There aint nothin' in it but some of my clo'es." "I don't want none of your clo'es," said Ben. "My wife's bigger'n you, and they wouldn't fit her."