His clothes were whole and clean. Mr. Roberts had seen to it that he
went respectably dressed to his mother's funeral.
A tap at his door a little later, and young Ried appeared, shoe-brush
and blacking-box in hand.
"Want to borrow?" he said, in the careless tone of one who might have
supposed that the blacking of his boots was an every-day matter to this
boy. "I always keep my own; it is cheaper than to depend on the street
boys."
Dirk said nothing at all, but reached forth his hand, and took the
offered tools, and the hint which came with them. When he went down to
breakfast his boots shone, and his fresh paper collar was neatly
arranged; altogether he was not the boy to whom I first introduced you.
I am not sure that Policeman Duffer would have recognized him. A collar
and a necktie make a great difference in some people's personal
appearance. Dirk wondered a little as to where the box of paper collars
came from. The necktie he had just found lying in the bottom of the box.
It was the mate of the one young Ried wore, but that told nothing, for
both were simple and plain, and could be bought by the dozens in any
furnishing store.
It is small wonder that the boys in the class looked at him. Nimble Dick
wore at first a roguish air, but a sudden memory of Dirk's face when he
turned away from his mother's grave came in time.
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