I'd like to show him I can
do something."
While Dick was indulging in these reflections, he had risen from
bed, and, finding an accession to the furniture of his room, in the
shape of an ancient wash-stand bearing a cracked bowl and broken
pitcher, indulged himself in the rather unusual ceremony of a good
wash. On the whole, Dick preferred to be clean, but it was not
always easy to gratify his desire. Lodging in the street as he had
been accustomed to do, he had had no opportunity to perform his
toilet in the customary manner. Even now he found himself unable to
arrange his dishevelled locks, having neither comb nor brush. He
determined to purchase a comb, at least, as soon as possible, and a
brush too, if he could get one cheap. Meanwhile he combed his hair
with his fingers as well as he could, though the result was not
quite so satisfactory as it might have been.
A question now came up for consideration. For the first time in
his life Dick possessed two suits of clothes. Should he put on the
clothes Frank had given him, or resume his old rags?
Now, twenty-four hours before, at the time Dick was introduced to
the reader's notice, no one could have been less fastidious as to
his clothing than he. Indeed, he had rather a contempt for good
clothes, or at least he thought so. But now, as he surveyed the
ragged and dirty coat and the patched pants, Dick felt ashamed of
them. He was unwilling to appear in the streets with them.
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