"I wish I'd got some better clo'es to put on," he thought, as with reluctance he drew on the ragged attire which had served him for some months, getting more ragged and dirty every day. "I'll buy some as soon as I get out."
He surveyed himself in the mirror and his long, unkempt locks attracted his attention.
"I must have my hair cut," he decided.
On his way out he saw a vacant chair, and seated himself in it.
"Do you want to be shaved?" asked one of the barbers.
"Not to-day," said Tom. "You may cut off some of my wool. Mind you give me a fashionable cut."
"Oh, I'll take care of that," said the journeyman.
"If you do what's right," said Tom, "I'll recommend all my friends on Fifth avenoo to come here."
"Is that the Fifth avenue style of coat?" asked the barber, pointing to several large holes in Tom's most prominent article of dress.
"It's a dress I wore to a masquerade ball last evenin'," said Tom. "I went in the character of a bootblack."