Suppose," he continued, struck with an idea, "suppose we went into some sort of pool, a sort of shippers' organisation, could you give us special rates, cheaper rates--say a cent and a half ?" The other looked up.
"A cent and a half! Say FOUR cents and a half and maybe I'll talk business with you." "Four cents and a half," returned Dyke, "I don't see it.

Why, the regular rate is only two cents." "No, it isn't," answered the clerk, looking him gravely in the eye, "it's five cents." "Well, there's where you are wrong, m'son," Dyke retorted, genially.
"You look it up.

You'll find the freight on hops from Bonneville to 'Frisco is two cents a pound for car load lots.

You told me that yourself last fall." "That was last fall," observed the clerk.

There was a silence.