"Take care of it, my boy, for it may lead to something.
God knows, in these hard times a man wants as many friends as he's ever likely to get." "Haven't you got friends enough, father ?" asked Diamond.
"Well, I have no right to complain; but the more the better, you know." "Just let me count," said Diamond.
And he took his hands from his pockets, and spreading out the fingers of his left hand, began to count, beginning at the thumb.
"There's mother, first, and then baby, and then me.

Next there's old Diamond--and the cab--no, I won't count the cab, for it never looks at you, and when Diamond's out of the shafts, it's nobody.

Then there's the man that drinks next door, and his wife, and his baby." "They're no friends of mine," said his father.
"Well, they're friends of mine," said Diamond.
His father laughed.
"Much good they'll do you!" he said.
"How do you know they won't ?" returned Diamond.
"Well, go on," said his father.
"Then there's Jack and Mr.Stonecrop, and, deary me! not to have mentioned Mr.Coleman and Mrs.Coleman, and Miss Coleman, and Mrs.
Crump.

And then there's the clergyman that spoke to me in the garden that day the tree was blown down." "What's his name!" "I don't know his name." "Where does he live ?" "I don't know." "How can you count him, then ?" "He did talk to me, and very kindlike too." His father laughed again.
"Why, child, you're just counting everybody you know.

That don't make 'em friends." "Don't it?
I thought it did.