Fame and Fortune Part 6

"Buy her some oranges. They'll do her good," and d.i.c.k slipped half a dollar into Tom's hand.

"Thank you, d.i.c.k. She'll like them, I know, but you oughtn't to give so much."

"What's half a dollar to a man of my fortune?" said d.i.c.k. "Take care of yourself, Tom. I must hurry back to the store."

Roswell was already gone. His pride would not permit him to stand by while d.i.c.k was conversing with a boot-black. He felt that his position would be compromised. As for d.i.c.k, he was so well dressed that n.o.body would know that he had ever been in that business. The fact is, Roswell, like a great many other people, was troubled with a large share of pride, though it might have puzzled himself to explain what he had to be proud of. Had d.i.c.k been at all like him he would have shunned all his former acquaintances, and taken every precaution against having it discovered that he had ever occupied a similar position. But d.i.c.k was above such meanness. He could see that Tom, for instance, was far superior in all that const.i.tuted manliness to Roswell Crawford, and, boot-black though he was, he prepared to recognize him as a friend.

When d.i.c.k reached the store, he did not immediately see Mr. Rockwell.

He accordingly entered the counting-room where Gilbert, the book-keeper, was seated at a desk.

"Here are the letters, Mr. Gilbert," said d.i.c.k.

"Lay them down," said the book-keeper, sourly. "You've been gone long enough. How many did you drop on the way?"

"I didn't know I was expected to drop any," said d.i.c.k. "If I had been told to do so, I would have obeyed orders cheerfully."

Mr. Gilbert was about to remark that d.i.c.k was an impudent young rascal, when the sudden entrance of Mr. Rockwell compelled him to suppress the observation, and he was obliged to be content with muttering it to himself.

"Back already, Richard?" said his employer, pleasantly. "Where are the letters?"

"Here, sir," said d.i.c.k.

"Very well, you may go to Mr. Murdock, and see what he can find for you to do."

Mr. Rockwell sat down to read his letters, and d.i.c.k went as directed to the head clerk.

"Mr. Rockwell sent me to you, Mr. Murdock," he said. "He says you will find something for me to do."

"Oh, yes, we'll keep you busy," said the head clerk, with a manner very different from that of the book-keeper. "At present, however, your duties will be of rather a miscellaneous character. We shall want you partly for an entry clerk, and partly to run to the post-office, bank, and so forth."

"All right, sir," said d.i.c.k. "I'm ready to do anything that is required of me. I want to make myself useful."

"That's the right way to feel, my young friend. Some boys are so big-feeling and put on so many airs, that you'd think they were partners in the business, instead of beginning at the lowest round of the ladder.

A while ago Mr. Gilbert brought round a cousin of his, about your age, that he wanted to get in here; but the young gentleman was altogether too lofty to suit me, so we didn't take him."

"Was the boy's name Roswell Crawford?"

"Yes; do you know him?"

"Not much. He thinks I'm too far beneath him for him to a.s.sociate with, but he was kind enough to walk up Na.s.sau Street with me this morning, just to encourage me a little."

"That was kind in him, certainly," said the head clerk, smiling. "Unless I am very much mistaken, you will be able to get along without his patronage."

"I hope so," said d.i.c.k.

The rest of the day d.i.c.k was kept busy in various ways. He took hold with a will, and showed himself so efficient that he made a favorable impression upon every one in the establishment, except the book-keeper.

For some reason or other Mr. Gilbert did not like d.i.c.k, and was determined to oust him from his situation if an opportunity should offer.

CHAPTER IV.

LIFE AT THE BOARDING-HOUSE.

d.i.c.k found his new quarters in Bleecker Street very comfortable. His room was kept in neat order, which was more than could be said of his former home in Mott Street. There once a fortnight was thought sufficient to change the sheets, while both boys were expected to use the same towel, and make that last a week. Indeed, Mrs. Mooney would have considered the boys "mighty particular" if they had objected to such an arrangement. Mrs. Browning, fortunately, was very different, and d.i.c.k found nothing to complain of either in his chamber or in the board which was furnished.

d.i.c.k had felt rather awkward on his first appearance at the table, but he was beginning to feel more at his ease. It was rather remarkable, considering his past life, how readily he adapted himself to an experience so different. He left the store at five o'clock, and got to his boarding-house in time to get ready for dinner. d.i.c.k had now got to be quite particular about his appearance. He washed his face and hands thoroughly, and brushed his hair carefully, before appearing at the table.

Miss Peyton, the lively young lady who has already been mentioned in the first chapter, sat near the boys, and evidently was quite prepossessed in their favor. Both had bright and attractive faces, though d.i.c.k would undoubtedly be considered the handsomest. He had a fresh color which spoke of good health, and was well-formed and strong. Henry Fosd.i.c.k was more delicate in appearance; his face was thinner, and rather pale. It was clear that he was not as well able to fight his way through life as d.i.c.k. But there was something pleasant and attractive in his quiet sedateness, as well as in the frank honesty and humor that could be read in the glance of our friend d.i.c.k.

"Won't you and your friend stop a little while and sing?" asked Miss Peyton, addressing Henry Fosd.i.c.k on the evening of the second day of d.i.c.k's business career.

Fosd.i.c.k hesitated.

"My friend has an engagement this evening," he said.

"I suppose I may not ask where," said she.

"I am invited to spend the evening with some friends on Madison Avenue,"

said d.i.c.k.

"Indeed?" said Miss Peyton, surprised. "I wasn't aware you had such fashionable friends, or I couldn't have expected to retain you."

"All my friends are not as fashionable," said d.i.c.k, wondering what the young lady would say if she could see his late fellow-lodgers at Mrs.

Mooney's, on Mott Street.

"If I can't hope to keep you this evening, you must promise to stay awhile to-morrow evening. I hope to have the pleasure of hearing you sing, Mr. Hunter."

"When I give a concert," said d.i.c.k, "I'll be sure to let you in gratooitous."

"Thank you," said Miss Peyton. "I shall remind you of it. I hope that time will come very soon."

"Just as soon as I can engage the Academy of Music on reasonable terms."

"You'd better try first in the parlor here. We'll take up a contribution, to pay you for your exertions."

"Thank you," said d.i.c.k. "You're very kind, as the man said to the judge when he asked him when it would be perfectly agreeable for him to be hung."

Miss Peyton laughed at this remark, and d.i.c.k went upstairs to get ready for his visit to Madison Avenue.

Our hero felt a little bashful about this visit. He was afraid that he would do or say something that was improper, or that something would slip out which would betray his vagabond life of the streets.

"I wish you was going with me, Fosd.i.c.k," he said.

"You'll get along well enough alone, d.i.c.k. Don't be afraid."