“Right you are, my boy,” said Barclay, with a smile. “There isn’t much of that foolishness about you.”
Here the boy struck the box smartly with his brush, as a sign that the job was completed.
Barclay put down his foot and prepared to go.
“You haven’t paid, boss,” said the bootblack.
“I gave you a dollar.”
“That was for something else. You haven’t paid for the shine.”
“You ought to throw that in,” said Barclay.
“Don’t do business that way, boss.”
“Here’s your money, then,” said Barclay, throwing a nickel on the ground at his feet. He had intended all the time to give it, but amused himself by teasing the boy. “Supposing I should want you again, shall I find you here?”