"I'll lick you when I come back," retorted Tom. "Don't mind what he says, miss."
"I don't," said the seamstress; "I'm used to it," she added with a patient sigh.
"Don't think about it," said Tom.
"You are not ashamed to be seen with a hunchback?"
"There ain't no cause."
By this time Tom had skillfully threaded his way with his companion across the street, and landed her in safety on the other side.
"I am very much obliged to you," she said, gratefully. "You're a gentleman."
With these words she nodded, and walked hastily away.
"A gentleman!" repeated Tom, thoughtfully. "Nobody ever called me that before. My clo'es don't look much like it. Maybe it ain't all in the clo'es. I'd like to be a gentleman, and," he added, impulsively, "I mean to be one, some time. I'll have to change my business fust, though. Gentlemen don't generally black boots for a livin'."
It was a passing thought that came to him by chance, his desire to grow up a gentleman, but he was more than half in earnest. He had not thought much about the future hitherto, but now his ambition was kindled, and he thought he should like to fill a respectable place in society.