but thim b'ys as is a-runnin' her carts is raisin' h--ll all the
toime."

"And then look at the teams," chimed in Lathers, with a jerk of
his thumb toward the dock--"a lot of staggering horse-car wrecks
you couldn't sell to a glue-factory. That big gray she had
a-hoistin' is blind of an eye and sprung so forrard he can't
hardly stand."

At this moment the refrain of a song from somewhere near the board
fence came wafting through the air,--

"And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy."

McGaw turned his head in search of the singer, and not finding
him, resumed his position.

"What are your rates per ton?" asked Babcock.

"We're a-chargin' forty cints," said McGaw, deferring to Lathers,
as if for confirmation.

"Who's 'we'?"

"The Stevedores' Union."

"But Mrs. Grogan is doing it for thirty," said Babcock, looking
straight into McGaw's eyes, and speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Yis, I heared she wuz a-cuttin' rates; but she can't live at it.