Out in the street they came upon a boy who was quite ready to undertake the job. Before he got through, however, he began to think there wasn't much profit in it. The farmer's shoes were of cowhide, and absorbed a great deal of blacking. Still the boy was an expert, and made them look better than they ever had before.
"That's worth a dime," he said.
"I won't pay it," declared the farmer. "Ten cents for blackin' a pair of boots! Why it's ridiculous!"
There might have been an angry discussion, but Clayton drew a dime from his pocket and put it into the boy's outstretched palm.
"Very likely he's got a mother to support," he said. "Besides, he's made your boots look fine."
"That's so," assented the farmer, looking complacently at the boy's work. "He seems to know his business. Mrs. Onthank would be surprised if she could see me now."
He walked along with unwonted pride, ever and anon glancing delightedly at his renovated boots.
"I can't make 'em look like that," he said. "They look better than they did when they was new, but ten cents is an awful price to pay."
They walked along Broadway till they reached Wall Street, down which they turned.