In fact, though he is my hero, his dress was far from heroic.

He had no vest, and his coat was ragged, as well as his pants.
He had on a pair of shoes two or three times too large for him.

They had not been made to order, but had been given him by a gentleman of nearly double his size, and fitted him too much.

He wore a straw hat, for it was summer, but the brim was semi-detached, and a part of his brown hair found its way through it.
Now Godfrey was just in the mood for picking a quarrel with somebody, and as there was no excuse for quarreling any further with John, he was rather glad to pitch into the young stranger.
"Who are you ?" he demanded, in his usual imperious tone, and with a contraction of the brow.
"Only an Irish boy!" answered the other, with a droll look and a slight brogue.
"Then what business have you leaning against my fence ?" again demanded Godfrey, imperiously.
"Shure, I didn't know it was your fence." "Then you know now.

Quit leaning against it." "Why should I, now?
I don't hurt it, do I ?" "No matter--I told you to go away.