"Who are you?" demanded Mills, quickly.
"You ought to know me; I am Frank Kavanagh, who used to go round with you."
"I have had so many boys—most of them good for nothing—that I don't remember you."
"I am the boy who wouldn't pass counterfeit money for you."
"Hush!" said the blind man apprehensively, lest some one should hear Frank. "There was some mistake about that. I remember you now. Do you want to come back? This boy doesn't attend to his business."
Frank laughed. Situated as he was now, the proposal seemed to him an excellent joke, and he was disposed to treat it as such.
"Why, the fact is, Mr. Mills, you fed me on such rich food that I shouldn't dare to go back for fear of dyspepsia."
"Or starvation," he added to himself.
"I live better now," said Mills. "I haven't had any boy since, that suited me as well as you."
"Thank you; but I am afraid it would be a long time before I got rich on the wages you would give me."