"What shall I put down?" "How much is a cup of tea?" "Ten cents." "It's awful high. It don't cost 'em more'n three cents." "Shall I put it down?" "Yes, I must have it. How much do they charge for toast?" "Dry toast--ten cents." "That's awful high, too. Why, you can git ten slices off a five-cent loaf, and they only bring you two or three. It costs a sight to travel." "Cream toast--twenty cents," said Ben mischievously. "What is the world comin' to?" exclaimed the old lady. "Twenty cents for cream toast! Like as not, it's skim-milk. Well, I guess you may put down dry toast." "Shall I put down anything else?" asked Ben. "How much do they charge for beefsteak?" inquired the old lady. "Fifty cents." "It's wicked shame!" she exclaimed indignantly. "They're a set of robbers, and I've a good mind to tell 'em so. You, sir"--to the waiter who came up at that moment--"what do you mean by askin' such shameful prices for your vittles?" "I haven't anything to do with the prices, ma'am." "I need some meat," said the old lady sternly, "but I won't buy any. I won't encourage you in your shameful swindlin'. I'll bear up as well as I can till I get home, though like as not I shall be faint." The waiter took the written order, and brought the old lady's tea and toast. Ben ordered some steak, and, finding that more was brought than he needed, offered a piece to the old lady. "Shan't I rob you?" asked the old lady, looking at the meat covetously. "Not at all, ma'am. I've taken all I want." "Then I don't keer if I do take a piece. I feel kinder faint, and meat goes to the right spot; but I wasn't going to pay any of their shameful prices." The old lady ate the meat with evident relish, and an expression satisfaction, which arose partly from the reflection that she was gratifying her appetite without expense. She even regarded Emma with a softened expression, saying: "I forgive you, little gal, for what you said to me. You don't know no better. You must try to behave like the boy that's with you. He's a real polite boy." "So he is," said Emma. "I like him ever so much." Luckily she added nothing to kindle the old lady's resentment, and they rose from the table on good terms. Chapter XIV Prof. Crane, The Phrenologist After supper Ben and his young charge took their seats in the main salon. The passengers were grouped about the tables, many of them reading the New York evening papers. Among them Ben observed a tall man, wearing a full beard, and attired in a suit of rather rusty black, who presently sat down beside him. From his appearance Ben fancied that he might be a clergyman or a missionary. "My young friend," said the stranger at length, "are you traveling to Boston?" "Yes, sir." "Ahem! Do you live in Boston?" "No, sir; I live in Milltown, a manufacturing town." "Did you ever have your head examined?" Ben stared at the questioner in surprise. "What should I have my head examined for?" he asked.