"Intimately. I dined at his house last week."
Mr. Clayton took in with a quick glance the dress and outward appearance of his rustic friend. Mr. Onthank certainly did not look as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox. His clothing was dusty, and his shoes were innocent of blacking.
"My friend," he said, "if you will pardon the suggestion, it would be well to have your boots blacked."
"I didn't bring any blacking with me," responded the farmer. "Besides, I had 'em blacked last Sunday."
"As you are going to Wall Street, and may meet some of the prominent people of the city, it will be well to have them blacked this morning. Leave it to me. I will find a boy who will do it for a nickel."
"I always black my own boots when I am to home."
"In the city we employ bootblacks."
"Five cents seems pooty good pay for blackin' boots. It don't take more'n five minutes."
"Oh, well, the poor boys need the money. I look upon it in that light."
"To be sure!" and Mr. Onthank began to look upon his companion as a very kind-hearted man.