But I have seen him." "Where ?" asked Jack, with an interest that quite amused me.
"One would think that after giving you smallpox, and robbing you of your money, you were really under an obligation to the young beggar, and wanted to thank him personally.

If you are so very anxious to pay your respects, it's ten to one we shall run across him at the top of Style Street--that's where his place of business is." "Place of business?
What do you mean ?" "I mean that he has spent the money he stole from us in buying a shoeblack's apparatus, and seems to think it's something to be proud of, too," I replied.
Jack laughed.

"He might have done worse.

My boots want blacking, Fred; let's go round by Style Street." The young vagabond was there, engaged, as we approached him, in walking round and round his box on the palms of his hands with his feet in the air.
At the sight of us he dropped suddenly into a human posture, and, with a very broad grin on his face, said, "Shine 'e boots, governor?
Why, if it ain't t'other flat come back?
Shine 'e boots ?" "Yes; I want my boots cleaned," said Jack, solemnly, planting one foot on the box.
The boy dropped briskly on his knees and went to work, making Jack's boot shine as it had never shone before.

In the middle of the operation he stopped short, and, looking up, said, "You _was_ a flat that there night, you was!" I could only laugh at this frank piece of information.
"I think you were the flat!" said Jack, putting up his other foot on the box.
"Me?
_I_ ain't no flat, no error!" replied the boy, with a grin.