“Yes; I want my boots cleaned,” said Jack, solemnly, planting one foot on the box.
The boy dropped briskly on his knees and went to work, making Jack’s boot shine as it had never shone before. In the middle of the operation he stopped short, and, looking up, said, “You was a flat that there night, you was!”
I could only laugh at this frank piece of information.
“I think you were the flat!” said Jack, putting up his other foot on the box.
“Me? I ain’t no flat, no error!” replied the boy, with a grin. “I’m a sharp ’un, that’s what I are!”
“I think you were worse than a flat to steal my money, and my friend’s.”
The boy looked perplexed. “Ga on!” said he.
“What’s your name?” asked Jack, changing the subject.
“Billy,” replied the boy.
“Billy what?”