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.
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