The spontaneous welcome accorded him was payment enough for the time, let alone the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from the imps.

There was little that could raise Peter in their estimation, but they understood very well that he had become a man of vast importance, as it seemed to them.

They had sharp little minds and ears, and had caught what the "district" said and thought of Peter.
"Cheese it, the cop, Tim," cried an urchin one evening to another, who was about to "play ball." "Cheese it yerself.

He won't dare tech me," shouted Tim, "so long as Mister Peter's here." That speech alone showed the magnitude of his position in their eyes.
He was now not merely, "friends wid de perlice;" he was held in fear by that awesome body! "If I was as big as him," said one, "I'd fire all the peelers." "Wouldn't that be dandy!" cried another.
He won their hearts still further by something he did in midsummer.
Blunkers had asked him to attend what brilliant posters throughout that part of the city announced as: HO FOR THE SEA-SHORE! SIXTH ANNUAL CLAM BAKE OF THE PATRICK N.BLUNKERS'S ASSOCIATION.
When Peter asked, he found that it was to consist of a barge party (tickets fifty cents) to a bit of sand not far away from the city, with music, clams, bathing and dancing included in the price of the ticket, and unlimited beer for those who could afford that beverage.
"The beer just pays for it," Blunkers explained.

"I don't give um whisky cause some -- -- cusses don't drink like as dey orter." Then catching a look in Peter's face, he laughed rather shamefacedly.