“No,” said Dick; “my grandfather used to wear it when he was a boy, and I’ve kep’ it ever since out of respect for his memory.  But I’ll get a new one now.  I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street.”

“Is that near here?”

“Only five minutes’ walk.”

“Then we can get one on the way.”

When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands clean, and his hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was the same boy.

He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for a young gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy.

“Look at yourself,” said Frank, leading him before the mirror.

“By gracious!” said Dick, starting back in astonishment, “that isn’t me, is it?”

“Don’t you know yourself?” asked Frank, smiling.

“It reminds me of Cinderella,” said Dick, “when she was changed into a fairy princess.  I see it one night at Barnum’s.  What’ll Johnny Nolan say when he sees me?  He won’t dare to speak to such a young swell as I be now.  Aint it rich?” and Dick burst into a loud laugh.  His fancy was tickled by the anticipation of his friend’s surprise.  Then the thought of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to him, and he looked gratefully at Frank.

“You’re a brick,” he said.

“A what?”

“A brick!  You’re a jolly good fellow to give me such a present.”

“You’re quite welcome, Dick,” said Frank, kindly.  “I’m better off than you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not.  You must have a new hat though.  But that we can get when we go out.  The old clothes you can make into a bundle.”

“Wait a minute till I get my handkercher,” and Dick pulled from the pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a part of a sheet or shirt.

“You mustn’t carry that,” said Frank.

“But I’ve got a cold,” said Dick.

“Oh, I don’t mean you to go without a handkerchief.  I’ll give you one.”

Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick.

“I wonder if I aint dreamin’,” said Dick, once more surveying himself doubtfully in the glass.  “I’m afraid I’m dreamin’, and shall wake up in a barrel, as I did night afore last.”

“Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?” asked Frank, playfully.

“Yes,” said Dick, seriously, “I wish you would.”

He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty hard, so that Dick winced.

“Yes, I guess I’m awake,” said Dick; “you’ve got a pair of nippers, you have.  But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?” he asked.

“You can leave them here till we come back,” said Frank.  “They will be safe.”

“Hold on a minute,” said Dick, surveying Frank’s boots with a professional eye, “you aint got a good shine on them boots.  I’ll make ’em shine so you can see your face in ’em.”