The newcomer had taken from their newspaper wrappings a small cake of yellow soap, and a piece of cotton cloth.
Laying these on the iron edge of the fountain basin, he calmly proceeded to wash his face and hands, using a plentiful amount of soap; and then, to the intense astonishment of the spectators, applied the impromptu towel vigorously.
"Well, that feller's too good for down-town!" Skip said, in what he intended for a sarcastic tone. "He b'longs up at the Fif' Avenoo."
"Oh, he's jest got in from the country, an' is goin' to buy Brooklyn Bridge," Sid suggested.
"Look at him! Jest look at him!" Skip cried, in mingled excitement and anger that the boy should be so criminally neat.
The stranger had taken from his valise of paper a comb, which he calmly proceeded to use, the water in the basin serving as a mirror; and then, to the surprise and disdain of the spectators, he gave his clothes a vigorous brushing with a whisk-broom.
"Well, see here!" and Skip spoke in the tone of one who is uncertain whether it is best to laugh or be angry, "that feller's makin' me tired. S'pos'n' we go over an' give him a shakin' up, jest for fun. Come on!" and Skip led the way across the street at full speed.
The stranger looked up calmly when they approached, but betrayed neither astonishment nor alarm; and Skip involuntarily halted a few paces away, as he asked, gruffly: "Say, young feller, what're you tryin' to do?"
"Can't you see?"
"I thought I did; but these chaps here made sure there must be some mistake about it."