“Do you earn much?” asked Bernard.
“That’s as it happens. When I’m lucky I make one and eight pence or two shillin’s. Yesterday a gent—he was an American—give me sixpence for a shine. Americans are rich.”
“Not all of them. I am an American.”
“Have you got a bowie knife?”
“No,” answered Bernard, with a laugh. “What makes you ask?”
“I was readin’ a story in a paper that said all the American boys carried bowie knives.”
“That’s a mistake.”
Bernard was feeling for a penny to pay the young bootblack when he heard a snort of triumph, and looking up, he saw Professor Puffer bearing down upon him.