"There's Tom Wilkins now," said Limpy Jim.
Tom was busily engaged in imparting a scientific shine to the boots of an old gentleman who was sitting on one of the wooden seats to be found in the neighborhood of the City Hall.
When he had completed his task, and risen from his knees, Limpy Jim advanced towards him, and said, with a sneer, "I've heard fine news about your friend Dick."
"What's that?" asked Tom.
"He's got nabbed by a 'copp.'"
"I don't believe it," said Tom, incredulously.
"Isn't it so, Micky?" said Jim, appealing to his friend.
"Yes, it's true. I seed him hauled off for pickin' an old fellow's pocket in Chatham Street."
"I don't believe it," repeated Tom; but he began to feel a little uneasy. "I saw him and spoke to him yesterday mornin'."
"What if you did? It didn't happen till afternoon."