on't run away after I've paid you, will you?"

"In course not. That aint my style."

The old lady took out her purse, and drew therefrom forty-seven cents.
She protested that she had not a cent more. Ben pardoned the deficiency,
feeling that he would, notwithstanding, be well paid for his time.

"All right," said he, magnanimously. "I don't mind the three cents. It
aint any object to a man of my income. Take my hand, old lady, and we'll
go across the street."

"I'm afraid of bein' run over," said she, hesitatingly.

"What's the odds if you be?" said Ben. "The city'll have to pay you
damages."

"But if I got killed, that wouldn't do me any good," remarked the old
lady, sensibly.

"Then the money'd go to your friends," said Ben, consolingly.

"Do you think I will be run over?" asked the old lady, anxiously.

"In course you won't. I'll take care of you. They wouldn't dare to run
over me," said Ben, confidently.

Somewhat reassured by this remark, the old lady submitted to Ben's
guidance, and was piloted across the street in safety.

"I wouldn't live in New York for a heap of money. It would be as much as
my life is worth," she remarked. "How far is Bleecker Street?"

"About two miles."

"I almost wish I'd rid. But a dollar and a half is a sight to pay."

"You'd have to pay more than that."

"That's all the man asked."

"I know," said Ben; "but when he'd got you there, he'd have charged you
five dollars."

"I wouldn't have paid it."

"Yes, you would," said Ben.

"He couldn't make me."

"If you didn't pay, he'd have locked you in, and driven you off to the
river, and dumped you in."

"Do they ever do such things?" asked the old lady, startled.

"In course they do. Only last week a beautiful young lady was served
that way, 'cause she wouldn't pay what the hackman wanted."

"And what was done to him?"

"Nothin'," said Ben. "The police is in league with 'em, and get their
share of the money."

"Why, you don't say so! What a wicked place New York is, to be sure!"

"Of course it is. It's so wicked I'm goin' to the country myself as soon
as I get money enough to buy a farm."

"Have you got much money saved up?" asked the old lady, interested.

"Four thousand six hundred and seventy-seven dollars and fifty-five
cents. I don't count this money you give me, 'cause I'm goin' to spend
it."

"You didn't make it all carryin' carpet-bags," said the old lady,
incredulously.

"No, I made most of it sp