Ragged Dick Part 28

"Mr. Greyson is a nice man,--isn't he, d.i.c.k?" asked Henry, as they were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their lodging-house.

"Aint he, though?" said d.i.c.k. "He treated us just as if we were young gentlemen."

"Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you."

"She's a tip-top girl," said d.i.c.k, "but she asked so many questions that I didn't know what to say."

He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner of the street which they had just pa.s.sed.

CHAPTER XVIII

MICKY MAGUIRE'S SECOND DEFEAT

d.i.c.k was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting pa.s.sively to an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his a.s.sailant, he instantly turned and gave chase. Micky antic.i.p.ated pursuit, and ran at his utmost speed. It is doubtful if d.i.c.k would have overtaken him, but Micky had the ill luck to trip just as he had entered a narrow alley, and, falling with some violence, received a sharp blow from the hard stones, which made him scream with pain.

"Ow!" he whined. "Don't you hit a feller when he's down."

"What made you fire that stone at me?" demanded our hero, looking down at the fallen bully.

"Just for fun," said Micky.

"It would have been a very agreeable s'prise if it had hit me," said d.i.c.k. "S'posin' I fire a rock at you jest for fun."

"Don't!" exclaimed Micky, in alarm.

"It seems you don't like agreeable s'prises," said d.i.c.k, "any more'n the man did what got hooked by a cow one mornin', before breakfast.

It didn't improve his appet.i.te much."

"I've most broke my arm," said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the affected limb.

"If it's broke you can't fire no more stones, which is a very cheerin' reflection," said d.i.c.k. "Ef you haven't money enough to buy a wooden one I'll lend you a quarter. There's one good thing about wooden ones, they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is another cheerin' reflection."

"I don't want none of yer cheerin' reflections," said Micky, sullenly. "Yer company aint wanted here."

"Thank you for your polite invitation to leave," said d.i.c.k, bowing ceremoniously. "I'm willin' to go, but ef you throw any more stones at me, Micky Maguire, I'll hurt you worse than the stones did."

The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen opponent. It was quite evident that d.i.c.k had the best of it, and he thought it prudent to say nothing.

"As I've got a friend waitin' outside, I shall have to tear myself away," said d.i.c.k. "You'd better not throw any more stones, Micky Maguire, for it don't seem to agree with your const.i.tution."

Micky muttered something which d.i.c.k did not stay to hear. He backed out of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and rejoined Henry Fosd.i.c.k, who was awaiting his return.

"Who was it, d.i.c.k?" he asked.

"A partic'lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire," said d.i.c.k. "He playfully fired a rock at my head as a mark of his 'fection. He loves me like a brother, Micky does."

"Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think,"

said Fosd.i.c.k. "He might have killed you."

"I've warned him not to be so 'fectionate another time," said d.i.c.k.

"I know him," said Henry Fosd.i.c.k. "He's at the head of a gang of boys living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once because a gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him."

"He's been at the Island two or three times for stealing," said d.i.c.k. "I guess he won't touch me again. He'd rather get hold of small boys. If he ever does anything to you, Fosd.i.c.k, just let me know, and I'll give him a thrashing."

d.i.c.k was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did not fancy tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his own. Although he hated d.i.c.k more than ever, because he thought our hero was putting on airs, he had too lively a remembrance of his strength and courage to venture upon another open attack. He contented himself, therefore, whenever he met d.i.c.k, with scowling at him. d.i.c.k took this very philosophically, remarking that, "if it was soothin' to Micky's feelings, he might go ahead, as it didn't hurt him much."

It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few weeks. A new life had commenced for d.i.c.k. He no longer haunted the gallery of the Old Bowery; and even Tony Pastor's hospitable doors had lost their old attractions. He spent two hours every evening in study. His progress was astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a natural quickness; and he was stimulated by the desire to acquire a fair education as a means of "growin' up 'spectable," as he termed it. Much was due also to the patience and perseverance of Henry Fosd.i.c.k, who made a capital teacher.

"You're improving wonderfully, d.i.c.k," said his friend, one evening, when d.i.c.k had read an entire paragraph without a mistake.

"Am I?" said d.i.c.k, with satisfaction.

"Yes. If you'll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing to-morrow evening."

"What else do you know, Henry?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar."

"What a lot you know!" said d.i.c.k, admiringly.

"I don't _know_ any of them," said Fosd.i.c.k. "I've only studied them.

I wish I knew a great deal more."

"I'll be satisfied when I know as much as you," said d.i.c.k.

"It seems a great deal to you now, d.i.c.k, but in a few months you'll think differently. The more you know, the more you'll want to know."

"Then there aint any end to learnin'?" said d.i.c.k.

"No."

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "I guess I'll be as much as sixty before I know everything."

"Yes; as old as that, probably," said Fosd.i.c.k, laughing.

"Anyway, you know too much to be blackin' boots. Leave that to ignorant chaps like me."

"You won't be ignorant long, d.i.c.k."

"You'd ought to get into some office or countin'-room."

"I wish I could," said Fosd.i.c.k, earnestly. "I don't succeed very well at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I do."

"That's cause I aint troubled with bashfulness," said d.i.c.k.