Fame and Fortune Part 18

"Very well, sir."

d.i.c.k took the note, and, walking to Broadway, jumped on board an omnibus, and in a few minutes found himself opposite the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Here he alighted, and, crossing the Park, entered Madison Avenue, then as now lined with fine houses.

Walking briskly up the avenue, he overtook a boy of about his own size, with a large bundle under his arm. Glancing at him as he pa.s.sed, he recognized Roswell Crawford.

"How are you, Crawford?" said d.i.c.k, in an offhand manner.

Roswell looked at the speaker, whom he recognized.

"I'm well," said he, in a stiff, ungracious manner.

Ashamed of the large bundle he was carrying, he would rather have been seen by any boy than d.i.c.k, under present circ.u.mstances. He did not fail to notice d.i.c.k's neat dress, and the gold chain displayed on his vest.

Indeed there was nothing in d.i.c.k's appearance which would have been inconsistent with the idea that he lived on the avenue, and was, what Roswell claimed to be, a gentleman's son. It seemed to Roswell that d.i.c.k was immensely presumptuous in swaggering up Madison Avenue in such a style, as he mentally called it, and he formed the benevolent design of "taking down his pride," and making him feel uncomfortable, if possible.

"Have you lost your place?" he inquired.

"No," said d.i.c.k, "not yet. It's very kind of you to inquire."

"I suppose they pay you for walking the streets, then," he said, with a sneer.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, composedly; "that's one of the things they pay me for."

"I suppose you like it better than blacking boots?" said Roswell, who, supposing that d.i.c.k was ashamed of his former occupation, felt a malicious pleasure in reminding him of it.

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, "I like it better on the whole; but then there's some advantages about boot-blackin'."

"Indeed!" said Roswell, superciliously. "As I was never in the business, I can't of course decide."

"Then I was in business for myself, you see, and was my own master. Now I have to work for another man."

"You don't seem to be working very hard now," said Roswell, enviously.

"Not very," said d.i.c.k. "You must be tired carrying that heavy bundle.

I'll carry it for you as far as I go."

Roswell, who was not above accepting a favor from a boy he didn't like, willingly transferred it to our hero.

"I carried it out just to oblige," he said, as if he were not in the daily habit of carrying such packages.

"That's very kind of you," said d.i.c.k.

Roswell did not know whether d.i.c.k spoke sarcastically or not, and therefore left the remark unnoticed.

"I don't think I shall stay where I am very long," he said.

"Don't you like?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Not very well. I'm not obliged to work for a living," added Roswell, loftily, but not altogether truly.

"I am," said d.i.c.k. "I've had to work for a living ever since I was six years old. I suppose you work because you like it."

"I'm learning business. I'm going to be a merchant, as my father was."

"I'll have to give up the bundle now," said d.i.c.k. "This is as far as I am going."

Roswell took back his bundle, and d.i.c.k went up the steps of Mr.

Rockwell's residence and rang the door-bell.

CHAPTER X.

A STORE ON SIXTH AVENUE.

Roswell kept on his way with his heavy bundle, more discontented than ever. The bundle seemed heavier than ever. d.i.c.k had no such bundles to carry. He had an easier time, his business position was better, and his wages more than double. And all this in spite of the glaring fact that Roswell was a gentleman's son, and d.i.c.k wasn't. Surely fortune was very blind, and unfair in the distribution of her favors.

"I suppose he'll be crowing over me," thought Roswell, bitterly, judging from what would have been his own feeling had the case been reversed. "I hope he'll have to go back to boot-blacking some day. I wish mother'd buy me a gold watch and chain. There'd be some sense in _my_ wearing it."

Roswell evidently thought it very inappropriate that d.i.c.k should wear a handsome gold watch, more especially as he was quite sure beforehand that his mother would not gratify his own desire to possess one. Still he resolved to ask.

There was another thing he meant to ask. Feeling that his services were worth more than the wages he received, and convincing himself that his employers would be unwilling to lose him, he determined to ask an advance of two dollars a week, making six dollars in all. Not that he considered that even this would pay him, but as he could hardly hope that he would be appreciated according to his deserts, he limited his request to that sum. He concluded to defer making his application until Sat.u.r.day evening, when he would receive his week's wages.

He consulted his mother upon this subject, and she, having nearly as high an opinion of her promising son as he had himself, consented to the application. If his cousin, James Gilbert, had heard of his intention, he was enough of a business man to have dissuaded him from the attempt.

Though he saw fit to espouse the cause of Roswell against d.i.c.k, it was more because he disliked the latter than because he was blind to the faults of the former. Indeed, he had a very moderate opinion of his young cousin's capabilities.

The days slipped by, and Sat.u.r.day night came. It was nine o'clock before Roswell was released, the Sat.u.r.day-night trade being the best of the week. The other clerks had been paid, Roswell's turn coming last, because he was the youngest.

The designation of the firm was HALL & TURNER. Mr. Hall, the senior partner, usually went home early in the evening; and Mr. Turner, the junior partner, a man of about thirty-five, attended to the evening business, and paid the weekly wages.

"Here, Crawford," he said, counting out four one dollar bills; "it's your turn now."

"I want to speak to you for a moment, Mr. Turner," said Roswell, beginning to feel a little nervous; for now that the time had come for making his request, he felt a little uncertain how it would be received.

"Very well," said his employer, showing a little surprise; "be quick about it, for I want to get through."

"I want to know if you will not be willing to raise my wages," said Roswell, rather awkwardly.

"On what ground do you ask for it?" said Mr. Turner, looking up.

"I thought I might be worth more," said Roswell.

"How long have you been in my employment,--do you remember?"

"About four months," said Roswell.

"Do you think you have learned enough in that time to make you worth more?"