He wore a coarse but neat suit of boy's clothes, one inch too small in
every dimension, a white turn-down collar, and a black neckerchief
fastidiously tied; and carried a slouched cloth cap in his hand, with
which he slapped his knees alternately, after he had taken a seat, and
continued to do so without cessation.
"Well, Bog," said Mr. Minford, kindly, but condescendingly, "you are
just in time to hear good news. This gentleman has taken a partnership
in my invention (Mr. Minford thought it best to state the case that
way), and, with his assistance, I shall be able to complete it and bring
it before the public immediately."
"Glad to hear it, sir," answered the boy Bog, blushing hard, lifting his
eyes from the floor long enough to glance at Mr. Minford and his
daughter, and all the while slapping his knees vigorously.
"He is in the bill-posting business," said Mr. Minford to Marcus. "You
may have seen him at the head of his company of walking advertisers.
Ha! ha!"
Marcus remembered having seen that honest face, that thick head of hair,
and that identical cap, sticking out of the top of a portable wooden
frame covered with placards, setting forth the virtues of quack
medicines, the excellencies of dry goods, or the unequalled attractions
of concert saloons.
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