Wait and Hope Part 22

"Sho!" said she. "Why, you're a child yourself!"

"I'm fifteen," returned Ben, with dignity.

"You don't mean to say you have the care of the little gal?"

"At present I have."

"Ain't n.o.body else travelin' with you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Where are you goin?"

"To Milltown."

"Where's that?"

"In Ma.s.sachusetts."

"Is she goin' to board with your folks?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'd like to have charge of her for a month. I'd make a different gal of her."

"I wouldn't go with you," said Emma.

"If you was bad, I'd whip you so you couldn't stand," said the old lady, her eyes snapping. "I've got a granddarter about as big as you; but she wouldn't dare to sa.s.s me the way you have."

"I'm glad you ain't my grandmother," said Emma. "I don't want a dirty grandmother like you."

"You mustn't talk so, Emma," said Ben, thinking it time to interfere.

"Talkin' won't do no good. She ought to be whipped," said the old lady, shaking her head and scowling at Emma.

"Don't you want to go on deck and see the steamer start?"

asked Ben, as the only means of putting a stop to the irrepressible conflict between the old lady and his charge.

"Oh, yes; let us go up."

So they went on deck, where Emma was not a little interested at the varied sights that met her eye.

"Did you ever see such an ugly old woman, Ben?" asked Emma, when they had reached the top of the stairs.

"Hush, Emma! You must be more particular about what you say. You shouldn't have said anything about her taking snuff."

"But she does take it," insisted the little girl. "I saw her put it up her nose."

"That is nothing to us. She has a right to take it if she wants to."

"But she wanted me to kiss her. You wouldn't want to kiss her, Ben, would you?"

"No, I don't think I should," answered Ben, with an involuntary grimace. "You were right in refusing that."

Soon after the boat started they went down to the supper-room and got some supper. Mr. Manning having supplied Ben with sufficient funds to travel in a liberal manner.

Just opposite them at the table sat the old lady, who shook her head frowningly at the free-spoken young lady. Ben was amused in watching her.

"I say, you, sir," she said, addressing the waiter, "bring me some tea and toast, and be quick about it, for I ain't had anything to eat since breakfast, and feel kinder gone, at the stomach.

"Please write your order, ma'am, on this paper," said the waiter.

"What's the use of writin it? Can't you remember?"

"Yes, but the bill has to be footed up at the desk."

"Well, I can't write it, for I ain't got my specs about me."

"Madam, I shall be happy to write for you," said Ben politely.

"I'm obleeged to you. I wish you would," she said.

"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?"