Richard Dare's Venture; Or, Striking Out for Himself Part 23

him I'd been stealin'. I wouldn't have taken yer money only I was afraid he'd die if he didn't have de doctor and de medicine, so help--"

"There, don't swear," interrupted Richard. "If you were so hard up you should have asked me for help. I would have given you something."

"I would have asked, only most of de people laughs at me and tells me to clear out, and they think I'm lyin' when I say dad's sick, and say they guess he must drink de money up, which is a lie itself, 'cause dad don't drink a drop; he's got pneumony, so de doctor says, and he's coughin' all de time."

"Is your mother home?"

"Ain't got no mother; she died when I was a kid."

"Well, Pep, I'm sorry for you," said Richard kindly, "and I won't do anything to you for having taken that money. But those letters--they were valuable. What have you done with them?"

"I've got 'em home, sir. I'll bring 'em to you right away, sir."

"I haven't got time to wait now," returned Richard, highly elated to find that Doc Linyard's property was safe. "Will you meet me here at six o'clock to-night?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sure? Remember I must have those letters."

"I'll bring 'em. I've got 'em hid in de garret. I didn't open 'em or noddin'. I can't read only a little newspaper print--'nough to find out what's in de paper ter sell it."

"Well, I shall expect you sure," replied Richard. "I'll give you ten cents for bringing them," he added, to make certain that Pep would not change him mind. "Have you had any breakfast?"

"I haven't had no eatin' since yesterday mornin'."

"What would you do if I gave you ten cents?"

Pep's eyes opened in wonder. In his knockabout life he had met all sorts of people, yet here was certainly a new kind.

"Yer jokin'!" he gasped.

"No, I'm not."

"Then if I had ten cents I'd go and buy some morning papers--I could sell 'em yet--and take de money home."

"All of it?"

"Yes, sir. Every cent."

Richard felt in his pocket. He had just sixteen cents in change.

"Here is the ten cents," he said, handing it out. "And here is six cents. I want you to buy something to eat for that."

Slowly Pep took the money. He did not know but he might be dreaming.

"Thank you, mister, you--you're good to me," he said in a low tone.

"I'm in a hurry now," went on Richard, "otherwise I'd talk to you some more. I want to find out how you get along and how your father makes out. You can trust me."

"I know I can--now," replied Pep. "And I'll be on hand at six o'clock with those letters sure. I'm very, very thankful fer what you've done, indeed I am, and I'll try to make it up to you some day, see if I don't."

"Anyway, don't steal any more," said Richard. "It isn't right, and it will land you in jail sooner or later."

"I never took noddin' before," replied Pep, "and I won't ag'in."

"I hope so, Pep."

"Will yer please tell me yer name?"

"Richard Dare."

"I'll remember it, Mr. Dare; ye're the first gentleman ever noticed _me_, and I'm much obliged, even if you hadn't given me a cent."

"I shall expect to see you at six o'clock or a few minutes later," was Richard's reply, and fearful of being late at the store he hurried off.

The street urchin stood still, gazing after him. There were tears in the light blue eyes, and a choking sensation in the thin little throat.

"He must be one of them missionaries I once heard tell of," was Pep's thought. "They said they went around doing good, and that's what he's doing. Six cents for something to eat, and a dime to buy papers with!

That's the best luck I've had in five years. If I don't make a quarter by nine o'clock I'm no good. And I'll never steal again--I won't--as sure as my name is Pep Clover."

CHAPTER XVII.

GETTING ACQUAINTED.

When Richard reached Williams & Mann's he found Frank Ma.s.sanet already hard at work. He had told the stock-clerk of the robbery in Park Row, and now he related its sequel in the shape of the incident of the morning.

"Well, maybe you did right," said Frank; "although the majority of the street boys are not to be trusted beyond sight. You will find out by this evening if the boy's word is worth anything."

"I think I can trust that boy," replied Richard. "I believe he was truly penitent. My treating him as I did may be the making of him."

Williams & Mann employed in their various departments between fifteen and twenty clerks. They were mostly young fellows, and outside of a tendency to play practical jokes, because he was a new-comer, they treated Richard very well, and the boy was, with one exception, on good terms all round.

This one exception was a young man of twenty.

His name was Earle Norris, and he was head of the shipping department.

Richard's duties brought him into daily contact with the shipping-clerk, but though the latter treated him fairly well, there was something in the other's manner that he did not like, and consequently he did not a.s.sociate as freely with Norris as that young man seemed to desire.

Norris was something of a dandy in his way, and rarely appeared at the store otherwise than faultlessly dressed. Of course when at work he changed his coat, cravat, collar, and so forth, so as not to soil them, but he never left without looking as much "fixed up" as when he had arrived.

"You're a new fellow here," he said to Richard when the latter came down to see if a certain box of books had as yet been sent away.

"Yes; new here and new in New York," Richard replied, smiling,

"I thought you weren't a New Yorker," Norris went on. "How do you like things in the city?"