and rags there was something about Dick that was attractive. It was
easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed he would
have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly,
and their faces inspired distrust; but Dick had a frank,
straight-forward manner that made him a favorite.

Dick's business hours had commenced. He had no office to open. His
little blacking-box was ready for use, and he looked sharply in
the faces of all who passed, addressing each with, "Shine yer
boots, sir?"

"How much?" asked a gentleman on his way to his office.

"Ten cents," said Dick, dropping his box, and sinking upon his knees
on the sidewalk, flourishing his brush with the air of one skilled
in his profession.

"Ten cents! Isn't that a little steep?"

"Well, you know 'taint all clear profit," said Dick, who had already
set to work. "There's the _blacking_ costs something, and I have to
get a new brush pretty often."

"And you have a large rent too," said the gentleman quizzically,
with a glance at a large hole in Dick's coat.

"Yes, sir," said Dick, always ready to joke; "I have to pay such a
big rent for my manshun up on Fifth Avenoo, that I can't afford to
take less than ten cents a shine. I'll give you a bully shine, sir."