"My dear old friend," he said, with effusion, as he espied¹ Josiah Onthank sitting near the door, "I hope you are feeling in the best of health this fine morning."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Clayton. I feel pooty smart. Why, you're all dressed up. You look as if you'd just come out of a bandbox."

 

"Men in my position have to be particular about their appearance. Now if I was in the country I wouldn't care, but I have an appointment with Mr. Vanderbilt this morning, and, of course, I must be particular."

 

[Pg 114]

 

"Do you know Mr. Vanderbilt?" asked Mr. Onthank, considerably² impressed.

 

"Intimately. I dined at his house last week."

 

Mr. Clayton took in with a quick glance the dress and outward appearance of his rustic³ friend. Mr. Onthank certainly did not look as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox. His clothing was dusty, and his shoes were innocent of blacking.

 

"My friend," he said, "if you will pardon the suggestion, it would be well to have your boots blacked."

 

"I didn't bring any blacking with me," responded the farmer. "Besides, I had 'em blacked last Sunday."

 

"As you are going to Wall Street, and may meet some of the prominent people of the city, it will be well to have them blacked this morning. Leave it to me. I will find a boy who will do it for a nickel."

 

"I always black my own boots when I am to home."

 

"In the city we employ bootblacks."

 

"Five cents seems pooty good pay for[Pg 115] blackin' boots. It don't take more'n five minutes."

 

"Oh, well, the poor boys need the money. I look upon it in that light."

 

"To be sure!" and Mr. Onthank began to look upon his companion as a very kind-hearted man.

 

Out in the street they came upon a boy who was quite ready to undertake the job. Before he got through, however, he began to think there wasn't much profit in it. The farmer's shoes were of cowhide, and absorbed a great deal of blacking. Still the boy was an expert, and made them look better than they ever had before.

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