“I've got a grammar, and have begun to study it,” said he. “My tea-pot is all made, as ye might say, an' I have begun to put a polish on it. Let me show ye.” He rose and put on his hat. “Now, suppose I've rung the bell an' Mrs. Smith opens the door. I bow so, and say: 'Good-morning, madam,' or 'Good-afternoon, madam. Would you like to engage a servant who will work for you at half a cent a day and board herself? I have one of the name of Sal. Sal cleans woodwork, silver, and all kinds of metal, and never complains.' “I don't talk as much as I used to. Some way it don't sound honest, and I find out that gentlemen are not apt to be gabby. I try to please and show that I want to earn an honest living, and I get along. “Ye see, the children like me because I like them, and everybody is glad to see me when I come around. The other day a woman asked me to mind her children while she went of an errand. It would have tickled you to see how they piled on me.” He sat in a chair and laughed, and put his wooden leg on the bed, and pulled a grip and two pillows into his lap, and flung the bolster over his leg. “There, that's about the way I looked,” he went on, with a laugh. “I made faces for 'em and told 'em how I lost my leg, and we had a grand time of it. It's the same way with grownup folks. If you want them to like you, you've got to like them. A gentleman never speaks badly of any one; that's another thing I've learnt.” “I'm not a gentleman, then,” I answered. “Why?” “There's one man about whom I couldn't say anything mean enough.” “Well, if you owe him a thrashing, wait until you can pay him off proper. You can't do it with your tongue.” I knew then that James Henry McCarthy, crude as he was, had got a little ahead of me. “You see, I'm working on my gentleman every day,” he went on, “I'll have him in decent shape by-an'-by. I read a good deal, because every gentleman reads, and I'm beginning to enjoy it.” “I wish you'd make me a visit; I want you to meet my mother,” said I. “I'd like to,” he answered. “You must come from a very respectable family.” “What makes you think so?” I asked. “Oh, I can tell by your looks and your way of talking,” he remarked. “You've been well brought up--a ready-made gentleman, as ye might say. It's grand to have all that done for ye. I wasn't so lucky. But I'm made upon honor--hand-sewed and stitched and double-soled. I ought to wear well. You could rely on me to behave myself if you took me into your home.” Just then a colored boy came to the door and said: “There's a man down-stairs who wants to see Mr. McCarthy, and he won't give me a card.” “Show the gentleman up,” said my friend, as if accustomed to many callers. Presently in walked the Pearl of great price with the dog, Mr. Barker. I was overjoyed to see them.