It so happened that he and Paul had not met for some time, and
Jim was quite ignorant of Paul's rise in life.
As for Jim himself, no great change had taken place in his appearance or
prospects. His suit was rather more ragged and dirty than when we first
made his acquaintance, having been worn night and day in the streets, by
night stretched out in some dirty alley or out-of-the-way corner,
where Jim found cheap lodgings. He strolled along with his hands in his
pockets, not much concerned at the deficiencies in his costume.
"Hallo!" said he, stopping opposite Paul's stand. "What are you up to?"
"You can see for yourself," answered Paul. "I am selling neckties."
"How long you've been at it?"
"Just begun."
"Who's your boss?"
"I haven't any."
"You ain't runnin' the stand yourself, be you?" asked Jim, in surprise.
"Yes."
"Where'd you borrow the stamps?"
"Of my mother," said Paul. "Can't I sell you a necktie this morning?"
"Not much," said Jim, laughing at the joke. "I've got my trunks stuffed
full of 'em at home, but I don't wear 'em only Sundays. Do you make much
money?"
"I expect to do pretty well."
"What made you give up sellin' prize packages?" asked Jim slyly.
"Customers like you," answered Paul.
Jim laughed.
"You didn't catch me that time you lost your basket," he said.
"That was a mean trick," said Paul, indignantly.
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