"How are you Tom?" he said, and was about to pass on.

"Where are you going?" Tom asked abruptly.

"To Mr. Pomeroy's."

"How soon are you going to the poorhouse to live?"

"Who told you I was going?"

"My father."

"Then your father's mistaken."

"Ain't you a pauper?" said Tom, insolently. "You haven't got any money."

"I have got hands to earn money, and I am going to try."

"Anyway, I advise you to resign as captain of the baseball club."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't you'll be kicked out. Do you think the fellows
will be willing to have a pauper for their captain?"

"That's the second time you have called me a pauper. Don't call me so
again."

"You are a pauper and you know it."