"Yes; but they are plain, such as a Quaker might wear. Why don't you get a showy tie, like mine?"
Andy smiled as he noticed the gorgeous tie which his friend wore.
"I don't like to be showy," he said.
"You'll never attract the attention of the girls with such a plain tie as you wear. Now, when I walked on Fifth Avenue last Sunday afternoon, as many as twenty girls looked admiringly at my tie."
"That would make me feel bashful, Sam."
"Let me bring you one from the store like mine. You shall have it at the wholesale price."
"No; I think not. It wouldn't be as becoming to me as to you. I don't want to be considered a dude."
"I don't mind it. Next week I'm going to buy a pair of patent leathers. They will be really economical, as I shall not have to spend money on shines."
One Saturday afternoon, when Andy was walking through one of the quiet streets west of Bleecker, his attention was drawn to a small boy, apparently about eleven years old, who was quietly crying as he walked along the sidewalk. He had never seen the boy before that he could remember, yet his face wore a familiar expression.