"Payment in advance!" said Ben, who didn't think it prudent to trust in this particular instance.
"I'll tell yer what," said Martin, to whom necessity had taught a certain degree of cunning, "if you'll lend me fifty cents for a week, I'll let you shine my boots every day, and pay you the money besides."
"That's a very kind proposal," said Ben; "but I've just invested all my money on a country-seat up the river, which makes me rather short."
"Then you can't lend me the fifty?"
"No, but I'll tell you where you can get it."
"Where?"
"Up in Chatham Street. There's plenty'll lend it on the security of that hat of yours."
The hat in question was in the last stages of dilapidation, looking as if it had been run over daily by an omnibus, and then used to fill the place of a broken pane, being crushed out of all shape and comeliness.
Martin aimed a blow at Ben, but the boot-black dexterously evaded it, and, slinging his box over his back, darted down Nassau Street.
Later in the day he met Rough and Ready.