"He must have money," he thought. "Perhaps it's his rich uncle. I thought he was lying, but I guess it's true, after all."
Tom saw the change in his manner, and it amused him.
"He thinks I'm somebody, after all," he said to himself. "What would he say if he knowed what I used to be?—how I went round the streets of New York calling out: 'Shine yer boots!' and was glad if I could earn a dollar a day that way? I don't believe Mordaunt would mind. I'm going to tell him some time, and see."
"Do you ever play checkers, Mr. Walton?" asked Mordaunt.
"Sometimes."
"Then suppose we try a game, or perhaps you will play with him, Gilbert?"
"I'd rather look on," said Tom. "I don't know how to play, but maybe I'll learn lookin' at you."
"Very well."
Two games were played, and then a waiter appeared from a neighboring restaurant with some cake and ice-cream, of which Maurice partook with evident enjoyment. His ideas with regard to our hero were quite revolutionized. He was a good fellow, after all. So when he took leave, at the close of the evening, he readily promised to come again, and did not forget to do so.
"He'll take more notice of me now," said Tom, laughing. "He'll think I'm somebody."