“Look here, then! I’ll give you a lesson,” said Clare. “Many’s the boot I’ve blacked. Up with your foot! I’ll soon show you how the thing’s done!”
“Please, sir,” objected the boy, “there ain’t enough boot left to take a polish!”
“We’ll see about that!” returned Clare. “Put it up. I’ve worn worse in my time.”
The boy obeyed. The boot was very bad, but there was enough leather to carry some blacking, and the skin took the rest.
Clare is found giving the shoe-black a lesson.
Clare was working away, growing pleasantly hot with the quick, sharp motion, while two of his fellow clerks were strolling up on the other side of the corner, who had been having more with their lunch than was good for them. Swinging round, they came upon a well dressed youth brushing a ragged boy’s boots. It was an odd sight, and one of them, whose name was Marway, thought to get some fun out of the phenomenon.
“Here!” he cried, “I want my boots brushed.”
Clare rose to his feet, saying,
“Brush the gentleman’s boots. I will finish yours after, and then you shall finish mine.”