"Are you sure your name is Tom?" asked the stranger.
"Why shouldn't it be?" demanded the boy, in natural surprise.
"To be sure," returned the gentleman. "Only I have a theory that there is a connection between faces and names, and you don't look like my idea of Tom."
This was rather philosophical to be addressed to a New York bootblack; but Tom was smart enough to comprehend it.
"If I don't look like Tom, what do I look like?" he asked.
"John, or Henry, or—or Gilbert," said the gentleman, bringing out the last name after a slight pause.
"I like Tom best," said the boy; "it's short and easy."
"Do you live alone, or have you any friends?" asked the stranger.
"I live with an old man, but he ain't any relation to me."
"What's his name?"