"You're Tom yourself," he said. "Where'd you get them clo'es?"
"Do you dare to compare me to a bootblack?" said Tom. "My name is Gilbert."
"You look like Tom's twin-brother, then," said Pat, bewildered.
Tom didn't reply, but walked off in a dignified manner, after paying Pat, swinging his cane in the most approved style.
"Don't he look like Tom, though?" soliloquized Pat, bewildered.
Tom enjoyed the joke, but didn't venture to laugh till he was out of sight.
"No wonder Pat didn't know," he thought. "I ain't sure I'd know myself, it I'd gone to sleep a bootblack and waked up as I am now."
Tom made his purchases, took supper at a restaurant, and went to bed early. It was his last night in the city. On the next day he was to start for the West, in quest of fortune.
CHAPTER IX.
BESSIE BENTON.