After the meal they sallied out to a second hand clothes
shop. Here Frank disposed of his things, and received in return a
good suit of clothes fit for a working lad.
"I don't know how it is," the porter said as they sat together
afterwards, "but a gentleman looks like a gentleman put him in
what clothes you will. I could have sworn to your being that if
I'd never seen you before. I can't make it out, I don't know what
it is, but there's certainly something in gentle blood, whatever
you may say about it. Some of my mates are forever saying that one
man's as good as another. Now I don't mean to say they ain't as
good; but what I say is, as they ain't the same. One man ain't the
same as another any more than a race horse is the same as a cart
horse. They both sprang from the same stock, at least so they says;
but breeding and feeding and care has made one into a slim boned
creature as can run like the wind, while the other has got big
bones and weight and can drag his two ton after him without turning
a hair. Now, I take it, it's the same thing with gentlefolks
and working men. It isn't that one's bigger than the other, for I
don't see much difference that way; but a gentleman's lighter in
the bone, and his hands and his feet are smaller, and he carries
himself altogether different.
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