"Fathers seem much alike,
whether they live up-town or down-town."
"Can't we go faster?" asked Edward Billings Henry, sitting on the edge of
the seat.
Junius shook his head. "Too many blue-coats around. But about that job,
now--you'll not be the only boy after it. There will probably be dozens
older----"
"I'm eleven, if I am small," interrupted the boy.
"And stronger----"
The boy stretched out a thin arm defiantly, and closed his fist. "Just
feel!" he cried. "I've got a good muscle, and on my legs it's better yet.
Just now I've got a stone-bruise on my big toe, but I tell you I can get
round pretty fast just the same. I don't believe Mr. Florins would ever be
sorry he took me."
"Yes, I'm inclined to believe that myself," mused the man. "But how are you
going to make him believe that in the beginning?"
The boy raised his lame foot and gently rubbed the swollen big toe. "Well,"
he began, "I'm going to talk up big. Father says you have to sometimes when
nobody's round to do it for you, and he says it's all right if you do
afterward just as big as you talk."
The driver wagged his head wisely.
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