“Yes,” he said.
Then when Dick fell to work, the stout man looked from Dick to the sign and from the sign to Dick.
“Where did you get that?” he asked.
“From a friend o' mine,” said Dick,—“a little feller. He guv' me the whole outfit. He was the best little feller ye ever saw. He's in England now. Gone to be one o' them lords.”
“Lord—Lord—” asked Mr. Hobbs, with ponderous slowness, “Lord Fauntleroy—Goin' to be Earl of Dorincourt?”
Dick almost dropped his brush.
“Why, boss!” he exclaimed, “d' ye know him yerself?”
“I've known him,” answered Mr. Hobbs, wiping his warm forehead, “ever since he was born. We was lifetime acquaintances—that's what WE was.”
It really made him feel quite agitated to speak of it. He pulled the splendid gold watch out of his pocket and opened it, and showed the inside of the case to Dick.
“'When this you see, remember me,'” he read. “That was his parting keepsake to me. 'I don't want you to forget me'—those was his words—I'd ha' remembered him,” he went on, shaking his head, “if he hadn't given me a thing an' I hadn't seen hide nor hair on him again. He was a companion as ANY man would remember.”