me in
visiting a hat store, where he supplied himself with one of fashionable
shape. He could not resist the temptation, also, of purchasing a small,
jaunty cane. Being naturally a good-looking boy, I am justified in
saying that, in his new outfit, he would have easily passed muster as
the son of a man of wealth. In fact, so effectually was he disguised,
that he passed some of his old street companions without their
recognizing him. Tom was rather amused and pleased at this. As he
passed his old rival and enemy, Pat Walsh, it struck him that it would
be a good joke to employ him to black his shoes, of which I neglected
to say that he had purchased a new pair. Pat was just finishing off a
customer, when Tom stepped up.

"Shine yer boots?" asked Pat.

"Yes, boy, and be quick about it," answered Tom, assuming a tone of
haughty command.

Pat was at once on his knees, blacking the shoes of his old rival
without the slightest suspicion of his identity.

"Humph! do you call that a good shine?" demanded Tom, when the first
shoe was finished. "I could black it better myself."

"What do you know about blackin' boots?" said Pat, angrily. "There
ain't a boy round here can give you a better shine than that."

"I got my boots blacked yesterday by a boy named Tom. He gave me a
better shine."

Just then Pat looked up in his face, and started in surprise.

"You're Tom yourself," he said. "Where'd you get them clo'es?"

"Do you dare to compare me to a bootblack?" said Tom. "My name is
Gilbert."

"You look like Tom's twin-brother, then," said Pat, bewildered.

Tom didn't reply, but walked off in a dignified manner, after paying
Pat, swinging his cane in the most approved style.

"Don't he look like Tom, though?" soliloquized Pat, bewildered.

Tom enjoyed the joke, but didn't venture to laugh till he was out of
sight.

"No wonder Pat didn't know," he thought. "I ain't sure I'd know myself,
it I'd gone to sleep a bootblack and waked up as I am now."

Tom made his purchases, took supper at a restaurant, and went to bed
early. It was his last night in the city. On the next day he was to
start for the West, in quest of fortune.

CHAPTER IX.

BESSIE BENTON.

Tom called the next day at the hospital, and left ten dollars, finding
this to be the right amount for Jacob's coffin. He took a last look at
the old man, so long his companion, and then, feeling that he could do
no more, went on his way. He next went to a ra