Shovel did not shake Tommy's hand warmly, the forms of congratulation varying in different parts of London, but he looked his admiration so plainly that Tommy's head waggled proudly.
Evidently, whatever his mother had done redounded to his glory as well as to hers, and somehow he had become a boy of mark.

He said from his elevation that he hoped Shovel would believe his tales about Thrums now, and Shovel, who had often cuffed Tommy for sticking to him so closely, cringed in the most snobbish manner, craving permission to be seen in his company for the next three days.

Tommy, the upstart, did not see his way to grant this favor for nothing, and Shovel offered a knife, but did not have it with him; it was his sister Ameliar's knife, and he would take it from her, help his davy.

Tommy would wait there till Shovel fetched it.

Shovel, baffled, wanted to know what Tommy was putting on hairs for.