“I don’t want any of his money,” said the bootblack contemptuously. “He’s no good.”
“What did he say about me?”
“He says you’re a bad lot.”
“I’ve heard that before. I’d a good deal rather have you for a friend than him.”
“Would you?” asked the bootblack, with an expression of gratification. “What is your name?”
“Dick Sprowl.”
“Then, Dick, there’s my hand.”
“My hand is dirty. You’d better not take it.”
“I don’t care whether your hand is dirty or not. Your heart is all right. There’s the shilling I promised you.”
“You’re a gentleman,” said the bootblack. “Say, you needn’t give me any money as long as you’re my friend.”