"Why, you aint a man in disguise, be you?" said Dick.

"You are very much mistaken, madam," said Frank, quietly. "The
conductor may search me, if you desire it."

A charge of theft, made in a crowded car, of course made quite a
sensation. Cautious passengers instinctively put their hands on
their pockets, to make sure that they, too, had not been robbed.
As for Frank, his face flushed, and he felt very indignant that he
should even be suspected of so mean a crime. He had been carefully
brought up, and been taught to regard stealing as low and wicked.

Dick, on the contrary, thought it a capital joke that such a charge
should have been made against his companion. Though he had brought
himself up, and known plenty of boys and men, too, who would steal,
he had never done so himself. He thought it mean. But he could not
be expected to regard it as Frank did. He had been too familiar with
it in others to look upon it with horror.

Meanwhile the passengers rather sided with the boys. Appearances go
a great ways, and Frank did not look like a thief.

"I think you must be mistaken, madam," said a gentleman sitting
opposite. "The lad does not look as if he would steal."

"You can't tell by looks," said the lady, sourly. "They're
deceitful; villains are generally well dressed."

"Be they?" said Dick. "You'd ought to see me with my Washington coat
on. You'd think I was the biggest villain ever you saw."