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een formed, and was influenced by the Bowery style of dress. "It's more modest, and that is all the better." "All right. I suppose you know best. Before I get ready I must give a new shine to my boots. I'm going to make them shine so you can see your face in them." "Better let me do that for you, Dick. I can do it while you're dressing, and that will save time." "No, Fosdick, I was longer in the business than you, and none of the boys could beat me on shines." "I don't know but you're right, Dick. I freely yield the palm to you in that." Dick stripped off his coat and vest and went to work with a will. He had never worked so hard for one of his old customers. "I'm goin' to give it a twenty-five cent shine," he said. Just then a knock was heard at the chamber-door. "Come in!" said Dick, pausing a moment in his labors. Mr. Clifton, a fellow-boarder, entered with a cigar in his mouth. "Holloa," said he, "what's up? Going to the theatre, Hunter?" "No," said Dick. "I'm goin' out to spend the evening with some friends up in Madison Avenue." "So I heard you say at the table, but I thought you were joking." "No," said Dick; "it's a fact." "Seems to me you handle the brush pretty skilfully," remarked Mr. Clifton. "I should almost think you had served a regular apprenticeship at it." "So I have," answered Dick. "Didn't you ever see me when I blacked boots on Chatham Square?" "Good joke!" said the young man, who was far from supposing that Dick was in earnest. "Oh, yes, of course I've seen you often! Did you make money at it?" "I retired on a fortun'," said Dick, "and now I've invested my capital in mercantile pursuits. There," and he took up one boot, and showed it to his visitor, "did you ever see a better shine than that?" "No, I didn't, that's a fact," said Clifton, admiringly. "You beat the young rascal I employ all hollow. I say, Hunter, if you ever go into the 'shine' business again, I'll be a regular customer of yours." "He little thinks I've blacked his boots before now," thought Dick. "All right," said he, aloud. "When a commercial crisis comes, and I fail in business, I think I'll remember your encouragin' offer, and remind you of it." "Have a cigar either of you?" asked Clifton, drawing out a case. "Excuse my not offering it before." "No, thank you," said Fosdick. "Don't smoke, eh? Won't you have one, Hunter?" "No, thank you. Fosdick is my guardian, and he don't
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