"Yes, my father is quite wealthy," returned Edgar complacently.
"I wish I was rich instead of good lookin'."
"You good looking!"
"That's what everybody says. I ain't no judge myself."
Tom looked roguishly at Edgar, and his aristocratic patron was obliged to confess that he had a pleasant face, though it was marred by a black spot on each cheek, probably caused by the contact of his hands.
"You're a queer boy," said Edgar. "I don't know what to make of you."
"Make a rich man of me, and well go to Europe together. My doctor says I ought to travel for my health."
"Edgar, haven't you got your shoes blacked yet?" asked his father from the bench.
Tom struck the box sharply with his brush to show that the job was completed.
"Just got done, governor," he said familiarly.