Spike was on his way from the office, very conscious of his new straw hat and immaculate collar; his erstwhile shabby suit had been cleaned and pressed by Hermione's skilled and loving fingers, hence Spike turned now and then as he passed some shop window to observe the general effect with furtive eye; and stimulated by his unwontedly smart appearance, he whistled joyously as he betook himself homeward. Moreover in his breast pocket was his pay envelope, not very bulky to be sure, wherein lay his first week's wages, and as often as he turned to glance at the tilt of the straw hat or heed the set of his tie, his hand must needs steal to this envelope to make sure of its safety. His fingers were so employed when he chanced to espy a certain article exposed for sale in an adjacent shop window; whereupon, envelope in hand, he incontinent entered and addressed the plump Semitic merchant in his usual easy manner. "Greetings, Abe! I'll take one o' them hair-combs." "Hair-gombs?" nodded the merchant. "Vot kind?" "What kind? Why, the best you got." "Ve got 'em up to veefty dollars--" "Come off it, Cain, come off--I ain't purchasin' a diamond aigrette to-day, it's a lady's hair-comb I want--good, but not too flossy-lookin'--savvy that? This'll do, I guess--how much? Right there!" said Spike, flicking a bill upon the counter. "That's it, stick it in a box--oh, never mind th' wrappin's. S'long, Daniel!" With his purchase in his pocket, Spike strode out of the shop, whistling cheerily, but the merry notes ended very suddenly as he dodged back again, yet not quite quick enough, for a rough voice hailed him, hoarse and jovial. "Why, hello, Kid, how goes it?" M'Ginnis's heavy hand descended on his shrinking shoulder and next moment he was out on the sidewalk where Soapy lounged, a smouldering cigarette pendent from his thin, pallid lips as usual. And Soapy's eyes, so bright between their narrowed, puffy lids, so old-seeming in the youthful oval of his pale face, were like his cigarette, in that they smouldered also. "Holy smoke!" exclaimed M'Ginnis, surveying Spike up and down in mock amazement, "this ain't you, Kid--no, this sure ain't you. Looks all t' th' company-promoter, don't he, Soapy?" "'S' right, Kid, 's' right!" nodded the pallid youth, his smouldering eyes always turning toward M'Ginnis. "Say, now, Bud, quit your kiddin'!" said Spike petulantly. "But, Gee whiz!" exclaimed M'Ginnis, tightening his grasp, "you sure are some class, Kid, in that stiff collar an' sporty tie. How's the stock market? Are ye a bull or a bear?" "Ah, cut it out, Bud!" cried the lad, writhing. "Right-o, Kid, right-o!" said M'Ginnis, loosing his hold. "You're comin' over t' O'Rourke's t'night, of course?" "Why, no, Bud--I can't." "Oh, t' hell wid that--I got you all fixed up to go ten rounds wid Young Alf, th' East Side Wonder--" "What?" exclaimed Spike, his eyes bright and eager, "you got me a match wi' Young Alf? Say, Bud--you ain't stringing me, are ye?"