The new comer, after a few shuffles on the threshold, and an unintelligible murmur of words, walked in with painful awkwardness, and took a seat upon a corner of the chair which Pet offered him, as if the whole chair were more of a favor than he could conscientiously accept; He was a bony, strongly built stripling, with a record of anywhere from seventeen to nineteen years written in his red, resolute, honest face.  He wore a coarse but neat suit of boy’s clothes, one inch too small in every dimension, a white turn-down collar, and a black neckerchief fastidiously tied; and carried a slouched cloth cap in his hand, with which he slapped his knees alternately, after he had taken a seat, and continued to do so without cessation.

“Well, Bog,” said Mr. Minford, kindly, but condescendingly, “you are just in time to hear good news.  This gentleman has taken a partnership in my invention (Mr. Minford thought it best to state the case that way), and, with his assistance, I shall be able to complete it and bring it before the public immediately.”

“Glad to hear it, sir,” answered the boy Bog, blushing hard, lifting his eyes from the floor long enough to glance at Mr. Minford and his daughter, and all the while slapping his knees vigorously.

“He is in the bill-posting business,” said Mr. Minford to Marcus.  “You may have seen him at the head of his company of walking advertisers.  Ha! ha!”

Marcus remembered having seen that honest face, that thick head of hair, and that identical cap, sticking out of the top of a portable wooden frame covered with placards, setting forth the virtues of quack medicines, the excellencies of dry goods, or the unequalled attractions of concert saloons.  He also remembered that this wooden frame was much taller than any of the long procession of frames which followed it, and that, from a hole in the right side thereof, protruded a fist about the size of the boy Bog’s, clutching a broomstick, with which the inmate kept a semblance of order among the wilful and eccentric occupants of the frames behind him.  “Oh, yes; I have seen you very often, Bog.  How do you like the business?” said Marcus, pleasantly.

“Very well, sir, thank you,” replied Bog, with his eyes still on the floor, “’cept when the boys poke fun at us; ’cos we can’t run after ’em in them boxes, and wollop ’em.  ’S rather hard, that.”  Bog caught Miss Minford’s eye as he concluded these remarks, and blushed till he perspired, to think that he should have dropped such a brutal observation in presence of that young lady.

Mr. Minford noticed the confusion of his young friend, and unintentionally added to it, by saying: 

“Bog is a good boy.  By his industry, he earns eight or ten dollars a week, not only supporting himself, but his aunt.”

“Not this week, nor last week neither, Mr. Minford,” said Bog, mopping the modest sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his coat.  “The adv’tisin’ line a’n’t as good as’t used to be.  I only got three jobs with my company the last fortnight, and nary cent of pay from any of ’em.  Of course, all my boys had to be paid just the same.”