After parting with Allan Roscoe and Guy, Hector kept on his way downtown.  He did not expect to meet any more acquaintances, but he was again to be surprised.  Standing on the sidewalk having his boots blacked, he recognized the schoolfellow he had least reason to like—­Jim Smith.

“What brings Jim here?” he asked himself, in some surprise.

He did not feel inclined to go up and claim acquaintance, but it chanced that he became witness of a piece of meanness characteristic of Jim.

When the young bootblack had finished polishing his shoes, he waited for his customary fee.

Jim fumbled in his pockets, and finally produced two cents.

“There, boy,” he said, placing them in the hand of the disgusted knight of the brush.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“It’s your pay.”

“Look here, mister, you’ve made a mistake; here’s only two cents.”

“I know it.”

“Do you think I work for any such price as that?”

“Perhaps you expect a dollar!” sneered Jim.

“No, I don’t; but a nickel’s my lowest price.  Plenty of gentlemen give me a dime.”

“That’s too much; I’ve paid you all I’m going to.”

“Wait a minute.  That boot don’t look as well as the other.”

Jim unsuspiciously allowed the boy to complete his work, but he had occasion to regret it.  The bootblack hastily rubbed his brush in the mud on the sidewalk and daubed it on one of Jim’s boots, quite effacing the shine.

“There, that’ll do,” he said, and, scrambling to his feet, ran round the corner.

Then, for the first time, Jim looked down, and saw what the boy had done.  He uttered an exclamation of disgust and looked round hastily to see where the offender had betaken himself.  His glance fell upon Hector, who was quietly looking on, and not without a sense of enjoyment.

It often happens that we greet cordially those for whom we have even a feeling of aversion when we meet them unexpectedly away from our usual haunts.  Jim, who was beginning to regret that circumstances had forced him to leave the serene sanctuary of Smith Institute, since now he would be under the necessity of making his own living, was glad to see our hero.

“Is it you, Roscoe?” he said, eagerly.

“Yes,” answered Hector, coolly.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking about the city, just at present.”

“Suppose we go together.”

Hector hardly knew how to refuse, and the two boys kept down Broadway in company.

“You’re surprised to see me, ain’t you?” asked Jim.

“Rather so.”

“You see, I got tired of the school.  I’re been there three years, so I told my uncle I would come to New York and see if I couldn’t get work.”

“I hope you may succeed,” said Hector, for he would not allow his dislikes to carry him too far.  He felt that there was room in the world for Jim and himself, too.