He knew that he was a match for either, though Mike exceeded him in size, and he felt quite capable of taking care of himself.
One day Mike and Jim, whose kindred tastes led them to keep company, met at the corner of Liberty and William streets. Mike looked unusually dilapidated. He had had a scuffle the day before with another boy, and his clothes, always well ventilated, got torn in several extra places. As it was very uncertain when he would be in a financial condition to provide himself with another suit, the prospect was rather alarming. Jim Parker looked a shade more respectable in attire, but his face and hands were streaked with blacking. To this, however, Jim had become so accustomed that he would probably have felt uncomfortable with a clean face.
“How are you off for stamps, Jim?” asked Mike.
“Dead broke,” was the reply.
“So am I. I ain't had no breakfast.”
“Nor I 'cept an apple. Couldn't I eat, though?”
“Suppose we borrow a quarter of Paul Hoffman.”
“He wouldn't lend a feller.”
“Not if he knowed it,” said Mike, significantly.
“What do you mean, Mike?” asked Jim, with some curiosity.